


The Spanish Are Coming

by mellyb6



Series: And Then There Were Four [10]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: A lot of Spanish, Anne loves her parents but they don't approve of many of her decisions, Arguments, I adapted it, I didn't steal the title from Paul Revere, Mati, Multi, Parents, Porthos and Aramis are very supportive boyfriends, Problematic Relationships, School Play, Spanish, because they are awesome, family times, so she's worrying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyb6/pseuds/mellyb6
Summary: It's the end of the school year. Anne's parents are coming to Mati's school play. She hasn't told them about dating both Porthos and Aramis yet.





	1. Chapter 1

There's music blasting in Anne's living room. For the short minute she'd gone to the kitchen to grab her coffee, Mati has taken hold of her phone to crank up the volume. She wouldn't mind because she likes the songs her son chose but it's too early in the morning and the neighbors might complain. So does Mati when his mother snatches her phone back so they can hear each other talk and still listen to the music.

 

The whinning stops when Anne surrenders to some more spinning with the boy until she decides he's so much better on his own and she settles in a chair with her morning drink to admire Mati's routine. Dancing moves he must have borrowed from Porthos. It's messy and loud, though, mostly since it consists of jumping and stomping yet Mati is grinning like he always does when he gets to dance and be silly in the morning. Their very own ritual for the weekends.

 

Until he stops altogether as the intercom rings. Short of breath, wide-eyed, delighted by the interruption and bouncing in front of his mother, grasping her hand to get her moving.

 

“ _They're here!”_

 

“ _I heard, sweetie.”_

 

“ _I'm hungry!”_ Mati stresses, pulling on her fingers then dashing to the small balcony where they had to set the table before they could dance.

 

“ _That was quite a workout, wasn't it?”_

 

“ _Yes! But I can do more and show Porfos with the new song.”_

 

“ _You're going to be an even better dancer than he is.”_

 

“ _I hope!”_

 

It sounds like the most prestigious compliment Anne could have paid her son. Mati's face glows under the mass of curly hair which hasn't been brushed yet. His cheeks are flushed and his chest is still heaving. He can't keep still while waiting for the men to join them.

 

There's some pink to Anne's cheeks as well and _she_ has brushed her hair. Because having company for breaskfast doesn't mean that she has to appear exactly like she was when she woke up. There was no time for a shower except for some water splashed on her face but it'll do. She's still in her pjs, hugging her cardigan tight. It may be sunny, it's chilly to walk around in only a tee-shirt.

 

“ _Porfos is really, really good and he's old so I guess he_ is _dancing for a long time,”_ Mati keeps on pondering out loud, oblivious to his mother checking her face in a mirror. _“But when I'm an adult, too, I'm sure I'll be the best!”_

 

“ _Just don't be an adult too soon.”_

 

“ _Mam_ _á_ _!”_ Mati shrieks, trying to avoid the hug and how he feels smothered in her embrace. He's giggling, though. _“I don't want to be an adult. Because if I'm an adult I can't live you anymore. Because you don't live with grandpa and grandma anymore.”_

 

“ _Exactly.”_

 

She manages to kiss him quickly once more -he's too adorable- but her lips skim his cheek. The doorbell has rung and it's more important. Anne is smiling at the commotion and the loud greetings and Aramis groaning that really, Mati has to stop pouncing on him like this. The boy is getting too big. Yet he's still hanging on to his father's neck when they walk in the living room. Accompanied by Porthos' laughter and the way his eyes light up when they land on Anne. How ridiculously happy she feels deep in her heart that they are here.

 

The both of them. With her. That they suggested to come have breakfast on this fine Sunday morning instead of being by themselves. In their home. Without Mati.

 

How amazing Anne feels that they like and value her company so much that they'd throw whatever pretence of having two separate lives out of the window. The rules they are still keeping are so few in number, the bare minimum for Mati to not lose his balance in life. One week with his mother, one week with his fathers. Sleepovers and days out. Days alone so everyone can breathe a bit. Like a big family. One in which the men don't mind disregarding the peace they could get without the child to spend quality time with Anne. Aramis certainly never would but it warms her heart to realize that Porthos has welcomed and accepted all of these tremendous changes.

 

Not a quiet life whatsoever.

 

The blue of her eyes is a gripping contrast with the beautiful blond waves framing her face and the white skin that Porthos grazes when he kisses her hello. As if it's the most natural thing and it makes her skin tingle because it is. He's her boyfriend and she's missed him. It's the same feeling when it comes to Aramis when he kisses her cheek before he puts a squirming Mati down.

 

“We were dancing, Porfos! Mamá and I! I can show you if you want!”

 

His voice sounds so expectant that Porthos gladly agrees, winking and rubbing his hands in anticipation. But after eating. Because right now, he's _starving_. Mati giggles. He peeps into the paper bag he's been given. The one which smells like a bakery and which makes even Anne's mouth water. Enough for her to usher everyone around the table.

 

“So, where did you go?” she asks when they're settled, soaking up the sunshine, surprisingly warm for 9 o'clock if the fact that Aramis is only wearing a tee-shirt is any indication.

 

“What?”

 

“For your run?”

 

That was the plan. The men would go for their run before coming for breakfast. The one they go on when Mati doesn't stay with them and that the weather is nice. Aramis will never agree to running under any sort of rain. Or when it's so cold his blood could freeze. He used to complain that Porthos was too hard on him but now it's getting better. His boyfriend is going easy on him, mosty since Aramis is always quick to remind him of his sprained ankle. Regardless of the fact that the injury dates back from the winter and it's now June.

 

In the spring, Aramis doesn't mind running so much. Porthos is a tease and always pushes him harder. Gives him challenges of the kind Aramis is always game for. The ones he always feels compelled to accept and conquer. Except today, Aramis looks down at the question and busies himself with buttering his croissant instead.

 

“We didn't go,” Porthos supplies.

 

“How come?”

 

“We slept in,” Aramis explains.

 

Anne can't see the tinkle in his eyes due to his sunglasses but his smirk she plainly does, like she hears the clicking of his tongue. She doesn't need more explanation to guess that they weren't just sleeping earlier. She chuckles, shakes her head. Sips from her mug and glances at Porthos who has cocked his head, amused by her reaction. Their whole relationship is a journey and then there are tiny moments like right now when everything is in sync, everything feels good. Porthos feels good.

 

“We'll go later, though, since Porthos _must_ go.”

 

“For your muscles, you said. Because it's your job,” Mati chimes in.

 

“That's right, kiddo.”

 

He winks again which makes Mati beam with the strawberry jam on his sticky fingers. He whines at his mother pushing his hair away from his eyes.

 

Aramis stretches on his chair, loving the balcony in spite of the street noises coming from below. He's loving Porthos' foot against his under the table and how radiant Anne seems to be. He's loving experimenting all the ways they can manage to be together. Loving how they understand one another and how easy it is to reconcile everything and everyone. Not even in his wildest dreams would he have imagined his life developping in such a way. Perhaps he had hoped for something similar without quite daring to acknowledge it completely. Now it's there and it's real.

 

Perhaps the sun is already going to his head. Aramis doesn't care.

 

“Do you have anything planned for the rest of the day?” he wants to know and Anne is quick to say no.

 

“I have to finish his costume for the school play but....”

 

“It's awesome, Papá! My costume!”

 

“Don't interrupt, Mati,” is his father's stern reply. Mati recoils a little, mutters a sorry.

 

“I was thinking we'd go to the park,” Anne finishes.

 

“And _we_ were thinking that we could all go together if you were free.”

 

Porthos nods in agreement, steals a strawberry from his boyfriend's plate before Aramis steals some of his _pain au chocolat_. Porthos shoves his leg.

 

“We go, Mamá! Please! I can run with you, too!”

 

“Or you could bring your bike along,” Aramis suggests and Mati forgets about running at once.

 

Anne studies them both. Her two boyfriends and their apparent eagerness to spend more time with her today. If her heart could swell even more at how amazing they are, it would. She smiles brightly.

 

“I'd love to come. So long as _I_ don't have to run.”

 

“Excellent! Now, Mati, buddy, what is this costume you were bragging about?”

 

Mati looks at his mother until she gives him the go to retrieve it and show it off. While being careful with the stitching, please. Anne switches seats as soon as the boy has disappeared inside so she can be closer to Aramis. He smoothes her hair when she's by his side, as attentive as ever, gazing at her thankful face before he squints after he's taken his sunglasses off.

 

“Hey,” he greets her again, eager to take advantage of a Mati-free moment. “I've missed you,” he whispers against her lips.

 

A proper kiss this time. With the sweetness of the pastries and the bitterness of the coffee on their tongues. Anne melts against his mouth and the hand on the back of her head. Aramis holds her close because after all, he hasn't seen her since the previous weekend. Since d'Artagnan and Constance's party. He's been living in the happiness that he had Porthos all to himself with no one else at home for a week, but also in the sheer bliss that Anne and him had connected on a much deeper level the last night they spent together.

 

That she trusted them enough, that she felt good enough in her body and in their relationship to want him to make love to her. So pure, so intense and yet so hot at the same time that Aramis is still feeling the aftermath of it all. Absolutely not how he imagined that his relationship with Anne would ever develop. It turns out they aren't so bad at dating anymore. At dating and at all the rest. They just needed to grow up a bit and not have hundreds of kilometers separating them.

 

He wasn't certain at first that he could talk about it with Porthos, since Porthos may have been there, may have taken part in it, he didn't experience the same feelings. Except he did, sort of, for the same reasons which made Aramis hesitate. So after much fidgeting, Aramis was reminded that they had agreed to talk about anything and everything for the sake of their commitment to each other.

 

Sure, Porthos would have loved to be in his boyfriend's position, because sex is sex and once upon a time, it might have upset him. What bothered him last Saturday was that holding Anne in his arms and touching her as Aramis made love to her excited Porthos more and he could only deal with it much later in the night. Once Aramis and him were back in their own bed. And _then_ , Aramis recounted all that he had felt, which in the end led to not a lot of sleep, with or without Anne in bed with them. She certainly was there in their thoughts.

 

So being with her on her balcony, with Porthos' arm loose around his shoulders and Anne sinking into his kiss, Aramis feels more at home than ever. Calm when Anne sighs and says that she's missed him, too. His hand glides along her arm, sorry that she isn't only wearing a tee-shirt instead of the cardigan. He plays with her fingers, shudders when Porthos' fingertips graze the top of his bare arm. The quiet acceptance of the display of affection.

 

“Papá! Papá! Guess what! Guess what!” Mati shrills, dashing back to his parents with no costume in tow. Only an overexcited attitude and the eyes of someone who has just remembered something crucially vital.

 

Both Anne and Aramis draw away under the force of their son and his enthusiasm.

 

“What is it? What is it?”

 

Porthos snorts.

 

“Guess who's coming to my school play!”

 

“We are?”

 

“Other people, too! Two other people! Guess!”

 

“My, I don't know. Did you invite Flea and Charon?”

 

“....No.”

 

Mati looks at Porthos, wondering if he should have. Flea was mighty nice with him. So was Charon. They bought him an ice cream and a pizza and they played mimes and Mati almost won. They let Flea win, that's what the boys decided.

 

“We can ask them later, no worries,” Porthos reassures him.

 

Mati nods, satisfied, and proceeds to keep on being excited.

 

“Grandma Leti and Grandpa Felipe are coming!”

 

Aramis stills in whatever answer he might have wanted to give. His eyes flicker to Anne. To her embarassed look although she has nothing to be embarassed about. Her parents have every right to visit and he also understands why his son would be so happy about the news. He thinks he can guess why Anne doesn't look as enthusiastic, though.

 

“They called a few days ago and the play came up,” she begins to explain. “They said they hadn't had a chance to come and visit us yet so it was the perfect occasion. I haven't told them about us yet, though so....”

 

Her sentence ends in a mumble. She feels like she would have to justify herself and her parents' actions. Truth be told, she is happy that they are planning to visit. She has only seen them for a couple of days at Christmas and a year is a long time compared to seeing them almost every week when she lived in Madrid. She's impatient, it's an unexpected surprise and Mati is over the moon.

 

There's still that small detail of her not having told them anything about the romantic development in her life. She shouldn't and yet she's terrified. They have bad precedents when it comes to dealing with unforeseen news. Anne is sorry she hasn't been brave enough to talk to her parents already. She's sorry she's dragging Porthos and Aramis into this.

 

Aramis notices her distress in spite of her shy smile so he clutches her hand to comfort her.

 

“Won't you get stage fright with such a large audience, buddy?” he wonders, redirecting his attention on his son yet always glancing at Anne.

 

“No! I'm a firefighter! I'm not afraid of anything!”

 

“What about that costume then?”

 

“Oh yes!”

 

Mati darts back to his bedroom now that his news has been delivered. Anne breathes out and finds Porthos staring at her intently. She doesn't look good, he thinks he understands why, given all he's been told about her parents. He wishes he could help even though he isn't quite sure what he could do to fulfill such a purpose. He's not Aramis and he despises it a bit.

 

“It's fine, really,” Anne assures them, overwhelmed by the way Mati has pushed the news on them. She meant to discuss it in private without her son so they would have all the time in the world to talk it through. She's also overwhelmed by the care and concern in their eyes. “It'll be fine.”

 

“We're here,” Aramis professes, aware he can speak for the both of them when it comes to Anne's well-being. “I love you.”

 

There's rummaging behind them which is a distraction for Anne to tell Mati to mind whatever he's doing. She's half-standing up from her chair, peering inside and before she can find some more reassurance so the men will not worry -her doing it is enough- Porthos has stood up to come to her. To pull her to her feet, gently. To hug her, tightly.

 

He's soft and yet strong, not budging. Keeping her against his chest and his lips are on her hair, on her forehead. It's soothing and it diffuses the tension in her bones. Just because he doesn't know what to say for now, or how to navigate her family, doesn't mean he can't show support. Anne's amazing and confident and no one, nothing, should be allowed to turn a fantastic sunny morning into gloomy hours. Porthos won't have any of it.

 

Nor will Aramis who hugs them both before Mati interrupts them again. Even when he does and the adults have to marvel at the great costume and at how crafty Anne truly is, her arm stays around Porthos' waist. Her fingers grip his jacket and her cheek is cushioned on his arm. So close and he radiates comfort and protection.

 

 

In the wake of this new unexpected development for the very near future, what should have only been breakfast and a few hours in the park together transforms into a day-long date. A family date of sorts.

 

The men offered it without hesitation in the couple of minutes when they were alone as Anne was taking care of Mati's costume so it wouldn't be ruined before the big night. It was plain to see how shaken she was to have to confront her parents, in spite of her insistance that she wasn't. This in itself unsettled Porthos because Anne is usually so strong. It's enough to make _him_ dread meeting them. Which takes him back to how nervous he was to meet Mati, to meet Anne, to meet Aramis' parents. Perhaps he'll always be nervous and it'll pass once the meeting is over. He hopes. He has two weeks to worry about it.

 

Today was about making Anne feel better, though. She argued once that they shouldn't upset their plans just for her. She stopped at the stern looks, at Porthos' tutting that she had to let them take care of her, at Aramis' professing that they had short to none except have fun and relax. Surely, a day with her and Mati fits the description.

 

So her dishes are done by Porthos and Mati's brilliant team while she takes a long, hot shower. The bathroom filled with flowery scents and the sunshine coming through the window. Aramis has gone out to do some grocery shopping. Even though he praised what was in her pantry. His compliment that her cooking and kitchen organization have improved since the last time they lived together has gone straight to her heart. She's trying.

 

Not that she gets to help with lunch afterwards. Aramis is happy to act as their chef and Mati is all to delighted to wash ingredients and do whatever his father requests of him. Anne would feel bad if it wasn't so nice to just sit back and watch them work. Besides, Porthos cuddles with her on the couch, asks her to describe family albums in great details. Vacations and domestic pictures from when Aramis was younger and she's content to do so.

 

With his fingers playing with her wet braid, gliding on her naked shoulder and down her arm. Her head falls on his shoulder at one point and Porthos laughs often, hugs her close and won't ever let silence stretch. They're holding hands when lunch is ready. When Aramis kisses them both before pulling on their free hands to get them moving.

 

There's fussing over the vegetables, there's whining over not being able to eat dessert if Mati hasn't at least tried some of the main dish. But there is none of it when the adults decide it's time to rest. He needs it, not complaining except for the fact that everyone should join him. His parents are used to it, although they haven't taken a nap together with the child in forever. With the addition of Porthos, there is no way Anne's bed will ever be large enough for them all. Mati settles on it with his mother and Aramis and Porthos gather pillows and blankets to try to find a comfortable spot on the floor.

 

Not that they intend on sleeping. Yet, Porthos must admit that Anne's singing Spanish accent during the short story she tells her son is making him drowsy. He keeps on closing his eyes for a few seconds at a time. He yawns, too, but that's Aramis' fault. He started doing it first, burying himself under Porthos' arm, a pillow close to his chest. Added to Mati's soft and funny snoring, his mouth wide open, it'd be sufficient to make anyone want to take a nap. Even the most reluctant of men. It's getting hot in the bedroom, the breeze making the curtains blow quietly.

 

And indeed, some time later, Porthos starts with a jerk, hurting his neck. There's a loud noise coming from the open window. People can't even keep quiet on a Sunday afternoon, he grumbles. His eyelids feel heavy, he has no idea what time it is anymore and his mouth feels dry. He may have fallen asleep a bit after all. Aramis clearly has, not disturbed by the sounds of Paris. He mumbles, though, shifts against the side of the bed, his nose buried in the comforter. His legs sprawled in front of him, the pillow on his lap.

 

There's another recurring noise in the bedroom, closer and fainter. Steady for a while, silent for a few seconds before it picks up pace again. The sounds of Anne sketching, Porthos discovers when he looks around. She's curled up in her armchair, the pad of paper on her lap, focused on her work. Oblivious to her audience.

 

“Don't move!” she whispers hastily when she realizes he's seen her. She looks down at her drawing, looks up disappointed. She wasn't finished.

 

“Are you drawing us?”

 

“Drawing is a big word but yes, I was trying.”

 

“Nice. I'm sure it's great as it is. Can I see?”

 

“No!”

 

It's a little too sharp, almost a frightened squeal. It freezes Porthos with one knee on the carpet to brace himself up. He watches as she hides the paper and she withdraws upon herself. He didn't mean to scare her.

 

He stands up nonetheless, careful not to upset Aramis. He stretches, glances at his wrist to find out he's been out half an hour. He feels groggy.

 

“It can't be that bad,” he tries to joke.

 

“I don't like people looking at my drawings.”

 

It's a strange concept. Why draw if not to show it to the world? It makes Porthos frown. Athos is always happy to show everything he's done when it's ready to be shown. One of the only times when Porthos could almost say that his best friend is glowing. Such a feeling must certainly apply to all artists, regardless of their fame or level.

 

“Didn't you make this one?” He tilts his head towards the frame on the wall. He noticed it the previous weekend. Beautiful watercolour streaks and the blossoming tree. It has a fresh look to it. “I really like it. You're talented,” he praises.

 

Anne shrugs.

 

“That was a professional class I took. Most of what I scribble ends up in the trash anyway. It gives me something to do, though. To occupy my hands.”

 

She shrugs again, only looks up when Porthos has come too close, looming above her. Concerned. He won't have that again. He's not Aramis and he doesn't really know how to deal with what's bothering Anne but he's still her boyfriend and he'll do whatever he can to make her smile.

 

He tugs on her pad of paper that Anne only gives up reluctantly, apprehensive even if he doesn't even try to look at it. He puts it face down on the carpet. Her hands look incredibly small in his. Warm. He makes her scoot so they can precariously sit together until Anne ends up on his lap. Porthos' arms are fiercely tight around her waist.

 

“Your parents?” he asks, not expecting another answer.

 

“I couldn't tell them on the phone,” Anne sighs. “I wanted to but in the end I was a coward and....”

 

“You're not,” Porthos can't help interrupting. “Don't ever say that you are, Anne. I didn't want to tell my dad on the phone either. I don't think these are conversations you can have over the phone.”

 

“Maybe. But now I'm stuck between wishing they could arrive tomorrow because I've missed them and also not knowing how to face them. It's going to haunt me for the two weeks to come.”

 

“We're here if you need us and we'll be there whenever you want,” Porthos promises, regardless of how nervous he'll be. Anne smiles softly, kisses his lips and his cheek, wraps her arms over his. “I mean....I don't really know what else to say because I'm not Aramis and perhaps we should wait for him to wake up but....”

 

“I don't need you to be Aramis!” Anne exclaims, a tad too loud and their boyfriend stirs a bit. She repeats it in a whisper, turning to face Porthos and his worried face. “Why would I need you to be Aramis?”

 

“Because he knows how to deal with these sorts of things and I don't.”

 

“You mean, my parents? I don't think anyone knows how to react to them, Porthos. I'm not even sure I completely do. And you're doing an incredible job already. I like being here. I feel better. I don't want you to be somebody else. You're Porthos and you really need to give yourself more credit. I'm aware I have history with Aramis but I want to make some more with you. I love you, Porthos. It makes me sad that you would think you're not good enough. You are.”

 

“I'm trying.”

 

“I love you,” she says again, insistent and he can only laughs quietly. He breathes out. He can handle this. He has to. He did it the past. He was the one with her when her ex broke up with her after all. The one who comforted her so much she decided she wanted to kiss him. “You're so selfless, Porthos, you have no idea. And I feel bad you'll have to endure the full blast of my parents' reaction.”

 

“You don't know that.”

 

“No, but I remember how they reacted to my pregnancy.”

 

“That was some time ago. Look at how they're trying to include Aramis now. Sendings pics when Mati was with them in April,” Porthos adds when Anne raises an eyebrow. “Giving news and all. Maybe they're changing, becoming more understanding?”

 

“I wish I could share your optimism.”

 

Somehow, their situations are quite similar and Porthos breathes more easily, feeling it in his guts that he can help in the end. That he'll never be Aramis and she's right, he doesn't have to. They have different life stories and it's what makes it possible for them to help each other.

 

“Hey, I was nervous telling Tréville, you know. About you. As much as I was that time I found the nerves to tell him I liked boys.”

 

“My parents didn't like Aramis having a boyfriend,” Anne says, ashamed. Of her parents' disapproval. Wishing they could be as accepting as Porthos' father. She can hardly hope their attitude will be the same. She's ashamed to have to say it to Porthos' face. But he doesn't react, even if deep inside, it infuriates him. That people could be so narrow-minded. And also that they could have such a strong influence in her life.

 

“I'm not trying to criticize or anything,” he starts, cautious, rubbing her stomach lightly. Anne sinks back against him. She does feel safe here. “They have no part to play in who Aramis dates. And they shouldn't have any in who _you_ date. We were raised differently, I'm well aware, and you want to please them, which I guess I also understand, but it's _your_ life.”

 

“I know that. I just hate having to justify my every action. I'll have to and they won't accept it and it'll ruin their vacation.”

 

She sounds so defeatist, already sure of how the entire conversation will go that Porthos hugs her tighter. He has no idea what it feels like to have such strong links with his parents. He has no idea what it's like to grow up with parents. To be torn apart like she is. It must be one hell of a storm in her head right now.

 

“Don't do that to yourself, please, eh? We can't know anything yet. But in the great scheme of things, it'll be out in the open, regardless of their opinion. You'll feel better, we'll feel better and we'll move forward. Don't get me wrong, you're getting me terrified abou them, which is kind of a reminder why I never wanted to meet in-laws before....”

 

Anne chuckles, startles at the idea that her dating Porthos means these consequences for her parents.

 

“....but let's hope that at best they won't make a big deal out of it....”

 

“They will.” She's a hundred per cent positive. There's no hoping it'll be different. Perhaps she should just call and tell them on the phone. It would give them time to digest the news. To hopefully not cancel the trip. Or to try to talk some sense into her and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want it too soon. She wants Porthos, Aramis and her son with the knowledge that nobody disapproves of their lifestyle openly. Yet.

 

“.....and that at worst they'll come around. Eventually. Like they're doing with Aramis. Slowly. Until then, they're not here, we are, we love you and we won't let anyone bring you down.”

 

Anne gazes at him in awe. For these few minutes he sounds so confident, so sure of his own words. She doesn't see why he would think he couldn't comfort her. He's making her troubles vanish. For a little while at least. She's mesmerized by his enticing smile, the dimples, the beard and the pretty eyes. Everything about Porthos is pretty.

 

“You do?” she gasps.

 

“I do what?”

 

“Love me?”

 

It's the first time he's told her so. Without second thoughts. Without hesitating. Natural and so adamant that he should reassure her that he didn't even realize it. He does, though. He liked her before she kissed him that first time at the gym. He liked her and he was ashamed of it. It was betraying Aramis. Now he does, openly, freely and she's amazing. She stirs up feelings inside of him. It should be the opposite of his comfort zone, the two of them cuddling while their boyfriend sleeps, their son as well. Yet Porthos feels no panic when she confronts him. He only kisses her.

 

“I do. You're fantastic, Anne. Everyday that I discover more about you, it makes my life feel more right.”

 

Anne beams up at him, happy, relieved from everything he's told her.

 

“You're brave, Anne. Never forget that. I haven't known you for long but look at everything you've accomplished so far. It's awesome. Look at Mati.”

 

“He's drooling on my pillow.”

 

“He's _here_ ,” Porthos insists. He knows the boy is her biggest success and pride. “You're never happier than when he's around.”

 

“The man of my life,” she jokes, then stops short at Porthos' funny face. The pout. “Perhaps that isn't accurate anymore. Sorry.”

 

“No need,” he chuckles. Her words make him hope for a better future nonetheless. Her honesty, too. For when she will have introduced him to her parents.

 

“I just love the three of you and I want to do it for a rather long time. I hope.”

 

“So do I. One day at a time.”

 

Her lips are cool against his cheek. Delicate.

 

There's another loud noise in the street and Mati starts on the bed. He mumbles in his sleep. Anne shifts on Porthos' lap, reclines against him, finds this is a very nice spot and she completely understands why Aramis and him are always wrapped up in each other. Porthos is a softie.

 

“You can look at my drawing if you want,” she decides. She can trust him: he won't laugh or make fun of her. Besides, if it had been Aramis asking earlier, she wouldn't have hesitated to show him.

 

“Can I? Really?” He sounds thankful she's letting him and he's quick to grab the pad of paper. It's a rough sketch, already more than he could ever do. And she may not have captured their exact facial features, she mastered their posture and Porthos adores it. “It's looking great. If you ever finish it, don't throw it out. I want it.”

 

Anne's cheeks flush with pride and delight. Whatever she did to deserve such an incredible relationship with these men, she'll forever be grateful for it. They're making her better. She doesn't have to face the world alone.

 

Not for the rest of the day at least, when she gladly settles in the shade of a tree in the park to read a book after everyone has awoken. Soon she's sunbathing, though, waving to Mati whenever he rides his bike close to her, Aramis and Porthos behind him. Their run isn't so much of one yet neither of them seems to care anymore.

 

Especially when Aramis finishes early to collapse next to her, breathing heavily and ready to give his life for some much needed water. He's all sweaty as he bumps into her and Anne scowls, punches his shoulder and wipes her hand on the blanket.

 

“Porthos told me you talked,” he remarks in between two long gulps.

 

“You shouldn't be talking and running at the same time. You sound like you're about to pass out.”

 

Aramis looks offended but maybe she's correct. He lies down in the grass, enjoys the sun on his face, on his closed eyes. His heart is thumping in his chest, his breathing is ragged. He _hates_ running.

 

“It didn't help calm my anxiety about facing them, and I hate it, and I hate myself for it, but yes, he helped a bit.”

 

Anne yelps as Aramis tugs on her hand to make her lie down next to him. He hates her relationship with her parents. He always has, from the very first moment they acted as if being pregnant was going to ruin her entire life.

 

“I'm not your parents' biggest fan, you know that. But you can't deny they've always been supportive. I'm not saying telling them will be a field trip but they've always been there regardless. I see no reason for that to change.”

 

“I hope you're right. And I hope Porthos is right and they won't overreact.”

 

“We are. Right. Because we love you and we won't let you wreck your pretty brains over it. I like you better when you smile. You don't get to whine about that,” he adds after he's rolled around to hug her and she's started squirming. It gets her to laugh out loud, a cute sound and she's rewarded with the hair falling on Aramis' sparkling eyes.

 

As long as they are together, that's all that matters.

 

“You're coming over for dinner tonight,” Aramis says, resolute.

 

“I'm good. You've already helped a lot.”

 

“Watch a fun movie, then. With pop corn. I bought you some.”

 

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

 

“And you're definitely coming over on Thursday.”

 

“What's Thursday?”

 

“Porthos hasn't told you? Tréville has gotten Mati that replacement shirt for the one that was ruined when he spent the weekend with him,” Aramis explains and gets it when Anne shakes her head. He didn't see why it was necessary either. “I know, but he insisted and he's coming for dinner because he won't be around for Father's Day and you're Mati's mother so somehow Tréville said you're more qualified to deal with clothes than we are so you're getting invited at home, too. Two birds with one stone.”

 

Anne stretches on the blanket, her toes curl in the grass and in spite of Aramis smelling like he should take a shower at once, or at least dive in the pond to wash of the sweat, she likes being in his arms. Having plans for the following week. Knowing that she'll see them, that she'll see Porthos' father. That she's been accepted by him. She should fight it and yet it gives her a glimmer of hope. She'll take anything at this point.

 

It'll be fine. Eventually.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of Mati's school play.

It's the first school play that Porthos attends. Ever. Although living with Mati the week before really made him feel like he had earned some more parenting badges. Because they had to put up with so many rehearsals in their living room. Bits and pieces of the show that seems to be the highlight of Mati's year.

 

So Porthos supposes that by school play standards, it's rather good. Considering all the hard work behind it. There's dancing and singing. It's all very awkward and messy and there are so many people taking pictures or filming that he has to crane his neck to see what's going on on the stage. Porthos wouldn't think of complaining since he sometimes does the same. Mati was disappointed when Tréville said he wouldn't be able to make it because he would be out of town. So Porthos is making it his duty to record as much of the play as he can for his father.

 

Mati forgets half of his lines but makes up for it with bright smiles and overacting. The kids keep on waving to their parents whenever they appear on stage and it's hard to follow the plot, if ever there is one, with all the pauses and hesitations. It's funny, though, and Porthos laughs quite a great deal.

 

He's arrived late at the school, straight from the gym, in sweat pants but in a clean tee-shirt. A sharp contrast from most of the people in the audience. The director was already giving her speech so he only managed to greet Aramis quickly before settling down by his side. Anne gave him a small smile and there were her parents, staring at Porthos, perhaps judging him for not arriving on time. The children's performance eased off his anxiety at meeting them a little.

 

They've been here for two days already. Two days with hardly any news from Anne. Too busy that she is. Tomorrow is Saturday, though, and she's invited everyone for lunch. More time for everybody to get to know each other properly. Because after giving the kids rounds and rounds of applause, there's not much quiet time for the adults to be together without interruption.

 

Especially as when there is a respite while Mati hasn't joined them yet, Anne shies away from Porthos' touch after he went to kiss her hello. He was only aiming for her cheek, aware of the burning text received earlier that she had yet to tell her parents about their relationship. The rejection stings nonetheless. The step away from him that she takes, too. Porthos doesn't understand it, sets his jaw, balls his fists, and takes a deep breath. Anne won't look at him now and this really isn't the best setting to discuss anything at all.

 

“ _Mam_ _á_ _, Pap_ _á_ _, this is Porthos,”_ she introduces him, so ashamed of her cowardice and her reaction that she could slap herself. Stupid fear and stupid stress and stupid her. Because the words are on the tip of her tongue, she loves Porthos, she's missed him since the last time they were together, a week before. But she can't help noticing her mother's piercing eyes analyzing this new person who is somehow a part of her daughter's life.

 

“ _Porthos is my boyfriend,”_ Aramis comes to the rescue when it becomes obvious that Anne won't say more. Can't. He holds Porthos' hand, gives it a squeeze, winces at how hard Porthos clutches back.

 

Porthos is trying not to be upset, he's trying to understand her situation, her predicament. Why she would hesitate. They've spent the better part of the previous week telling Anne it'd be fine but that she had to tell her parents. It's eating her alive so it's for the best. But when faced with the unavoidable, she's hopeless. Not able to do or say anything. And Porthos is back to being only an acquaitance. A random addition. He despises it. He doesn't understand why she would shy away from any display of affection entirely.

 

At least her parents are polite as they shake his hand. Her mother wearing impeccable clothes and perfect hair. Her father with his velvet jacket and his tie. Miles away from his casual clothing. They're nice, inquiring about his lateness and under other circumstances, Porthos would be utterly pissed by the way Anne's mother won't stop glancing at Aramis' hand clasped in his. Except Porthos is too busy staring intently at Anne.

 

She's looking for Mati, scanning the crowd of children coming back in the room. She's hearing the conversation, a din in her ears. Porthos' broken Spanish yet he's trying so hard. She's so proud of him and she wants to tell him, to hug him. To squeeze the life out of him because she's been having a difficult couple of days so far. Beyond happy to roam Paris with her parents. To show them the museum. To have dinners with them again. To go shopping. All the while never going to the bottom of what's changed in her life.

 

She's a chicken. She wants to retain this semblance of acceptance that her parents have. Because for now, Porthos is only Aramis' boyfriend. They may believe that the men shouldn't be together, they are being civil. Simply assessing for themselves how he could and does affect their grandchild's well-being. As far as they're concerned, that's the full extent of his relationship with their daughter and it's mostly fine. Anne is afraid everything will change soon. She doesn't want to cause a scene. Not here.

 

But she miscalculated. It would have been so much better to cause a scene before. Before Porthos found himself in the same room as her parents. Because he hates her now. He hardly speaks more than a few words at a time. Given the thinking he has to do to find the correct words in Spanish, he actually doesn't say much in the end. Not that he wants to.

 

Mati is an excellent distraction when he comes to collect his praises, with his large smile. Still in his costume because it's awesome. Porthos swallows his resentment and confusion to give him a high five and a hug before the boy introduces him to his grandparents. Again. And attracts so much attention, from Aramis and Anne's parents that Porthos mumbles something about getting a drink. It's suffocating. He can't breathe and he can't stand to be on the side. Not included like he should be.

 

Anne swallows thickly as well, watching him stride away to the buffet. Aramis is doing the same, catching her eye.

 

“He's upset with me, isn't he?” she whispers, coming close to him while Mati is happily reviewing the play to his grandparents. He's _really_ happy they're here.

 

“He is,” Aramis admits, not looking at her. Still looking at his boyfriend's back.

 

“Are you, too?”

 

This time, Aramis looks down at her. Properly. Her worried eyes, how she wrings her hands and the red of her cheeks. She's uncomfortable. He wraps one arm around her shoulders, because it's nothing out of the ordinary for them. Besides, her parents have been surprisingly cordial for the few moments he's spent in their company today. Aramis can hardly believe that they could grow out of their hatred for him. Small steps yet small talk is more than what they used to do before last Christmas.

 

“I'm upset for Porthos,” Aramis explains. Anne's shoulders sag.

 

“I told you. I don't know how to handle it. I made some bad choices these days, I see that now. You should be upset, too.”

 

“I've had worse when it comes to your family. You'll tell them at one point, though, right? Because you have to, Anne.”

 

She shudders against him. It's such a turmoil in her head. They'd made it sound so relieving whenever she would talk with the men. Porthos sounded so reassuring that first Sunday she told them about her parents' visit. When they said that her coming out would free her. She just doesn't think she can survive all this stress.

 

“You don't want to be living a lie,” Aramis adds quietly.

 

“Which is exactly what's happening right now. He _hates_ me.”

 

“Come on, now. Of course not, he doesn't. Go talk to him and you'll see that's not true. Go on. Clear it up. I'll stay with your parents.”

 

“You will?”

 

Aramis would laugh at her disbelieving eyes.

 

“They don't look like they want to burn me at the stake anymore. I think I can handle it.”

 

It's true that they're changing when it comes to him. Anne can't deny it. It's thrilling. A prelude of better things to come. She hopes. They certainly would prefer to stay with their daughter instead of only Aramis but Mati is there, ecstatic, bouncing in his father's arms, begging to open the bag of sweets he's been given backstage. So they can bear a few minutes alone with him.

 

“ _So, how is the publishing business going, Aramis?”_

 

“ _Good, thank you,”_ he replies, surprised by the amability and the sudden interest that her father seems to show. _“I'm almost done with the series of analysis I was hired to write.”_

 

“ _I read one of them. Anne sent a book back during the winter. My French isn't so great anymore but I think I understood some of it. It was really well done.”_

 

“ _Thank you.”_

 

Aramis smiles, thankful. Amazed. He is cut off by Mati who has so much to say about books and how his father writes them. Because once, Aramis had to bring him along to some castle on the outskirts of Paris for some research. Mati adored it.

 

Maybe now that they see what a good position he has secured, that Mati and Anne are happily settled in Paris and that their life is going on well, her parents are more willing to ackowledge and accept him. More than when he was just a student. He could support both his son and Anne if he had to. Aramis is absolutely not going anywhere. He's not abandoning them. Their daughter is safe with him.

 

Whatever is responsible for their slow changes, Aramis is grateful things are improving. He only hopes it won't worsen with the upcoming news. He has a direct view of Porthos behind Anne's parents. Far off and with the hubbub in the school gym, there's no way he could hear what they're saying. He's worried in spite of himself.

 

On the other hand, Porthos wishes they offered more than just soft drinks. He downs Coke after Coke because he has no desire to socialize and even less to go back to Anne. If it's to be ignored, he'd rather stay away. Until he feels her hand on his arm and he can't stay true to his resolution.

 

“What is it?” It's rough but he doesn't even try to sound nicer. He's hurt.

 

“I'm sorry, Porthos. I didn't mean to upset you.”

 

“I don't know what else you expected when you can't even introduce me properly.”

 

“I'm trying....You're not being fair....I've tried yesterday and then I couldn't and...”

 

“So what? Everytime you'll try you'll give up instead?” he seethes. He really is trying not to raise his voice but he truly didn't imagine she would shun him like that. “Am I only ever going to be a secret?”

 

“You're not....”

 

Porthos snorts, shakes her hand off.

 

“It looked like I was.”

 

Anne looks deeply offended by the idea crossing his mind.

 

“How can you say that? Have you forgotten last week?”

 

“What last week?”

 

“Thursday? When we slept together!” she lowers her voice more, speaking through gritted teeth. She was feeling so wonderful that night and that's the side of Porthos she wants to concentrate on. Not the one she's seemingly fighting right now.

 

“So? People don't have to know about that. Sex doesn't have to mean more. ”

 

“How can you say that! You know me! You know what it means for _me_!”

 

“You wouldn't even let me touch you back there.”

 

“Because that's not how I want them to find out.”

 

“Then tell them! I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of it.”

 

“Do you think it's easy?” Anne snaps, hurt a bit. “You should know, you've been through it.”

 

“And I told my dad when I said I would. I didn't hide you. They've been here for three days already.”

 

“And I will. Jesus, Porthos! I thought you understood how difficult it was for me. Why can't you be as supportive as Aramis?”

 

“Oh, right. Of course.”

 

His face suddenly closes and maybe in another place, at another time, he'd try to fight the stab to his heart. The one he's battling to realize he doesn't need to be like Aramis to be with her. But then she goes and says things like that.

 

“No, that's not....,” Anne tries to backpedal when she realizes how it sounded. She's upsetting him even more. And she's upset as well. And she's trying to keep the argument quiet but really, she just wants to scream. It's all so frustrating. “That's not what I meant, Porthos. I'm not...I'm not saying one of you is better than the other. I'm not. I'm tired and I'm stressed out.”

 

“And I'm angry.”

 

“And it's my fault, I know.”

 

“Fix it, then.”

 

Porthos shrugs off the hand grasping his jacket. He sees no point in carrying on with the conversation. It won't make her do anything tonight, he's sure of it. She's acting as if she has no boyfriends and even though he knew it before he came to the school, it's like needles piercing his insides. To be ignored. He can't comprehend how Aramis can stand it.

 

Porthos isn't nobody. He's more than the boyfriend of Mati's father. He's so much more and it's as if this side of his life is entirely disregarded so that Anne's parents won't be offended. Porthos didn't imagine it would be so bad. That she would value them above him.

 

In spite of how excited Mati is regardless of the late hour, in spite of Aramis being included by her parents, Porthos doesn't want to stay any longer. He used to worry about what the Spaniards would think of him yet now, he couldn't care less if they find him rude for leaving so fast. He can't. He'd scream and shout but it'd be counterproductive. He can't remember saying goodbye to Anne at all.

 

He needs to clear his head. So he swings by the gym again before going back home. With Aramis. Who is so quiet walking close to his boyfriend. Aramis never wants to take sides in arguments that aren't his to begin with. He does understand both sides and perhaps he's more patient when it comes to Anne's parents. They have history. He used to try so hard to be accepted when Anne was pregnant, when Mati was a newborn. He's been through what Porthos is going through. He believes he wouldn't have handled the situation like Anne is yet he's not her. He's upset Porthos is mad, though. He wants to cuddle and make it all better.

 

Only for now, Aramis is positive that hitting something might prove more efficient.

 

The building is mostly empty when they arrive. A couple of employees tidying things up who clock out after being sent away by a very stern boss.

 

“How did she greet you?” Porthos eventually asks after he's lost his jacket and that he's yelled a couple of times. And hit things. The tension is seeping through his bones with every punch. He feels better. He needs to know nonetheless. He wasn't there.

 

Aramis fidgets on the bench.

 

“She gave me a kiss. On the cheek.”

 

It's the answer that Porthos expected, which doesn't mean he likes to hear the words out loud. It makes his own treatment even worse and really, there is no way he can accept how Anne has behaved with him.

 

“You could have said something,” he mutters.

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don't know. You could have told her to tell them.”

 

“I did. She knows it. It's just not easy.”

 

“But denying what's going on between us is?”

 

“I never said that, Porthos. I don't think she thinks so either. It was sort of a traumatic experience how they reacted to her pregancy. They were antagonizing her so much that I can understand why she'd stall.”

 

“Sure, and I can't. Because I wasn't there. Typical.”

 

Porthos snarls and hits the punching bag again. Hard. They're both the same. Aramis and Anne. Ready to shove their past in his face.

 

“I never said that either. I'm just trying to point out how one situation might influence her behavior today. A behavior that I don't condone but I'm not going to do it for her. And really, I don't see why _we_ are arguing about this when I'm doing all I can to make you feel better. Don't take it out on me. I am _not_ a punching bag.”

 

Aramis has stood up from his bench, frowning, holding back animosity. They're all so stressed out by this visit. It's Friday night, they're exhausted and fighting is the last thing Aramis wants to do. How ever much Porthos needs it.

 

Porthos watches his boyfriend with his hands set on his hips. The dark look and the straightened shoulders. Fighting with Aramis isn't what he wants. He never wanted to fight with Anne either. Porthos lowers his hands, rests his forehead on the punching bag and takes such a deep breath that Aramis can see his entire back tremble.

 

“You have to trust her,” Aramis hazards. “She won't keep you, and I for that matter, hidden. It's hard not being able to control people. Remember how terrified I was when you admitted you had feelings for her, too?” He notices Porthos' nod. “I was scared I'd lose you both because at the end of it all, I can't control how you feel and act. It's easier not but I'm always learning. I wish she'd told them already, but I trust her. And it's enough.”

 

“I want to belong,” Porthos admits.

 

“You do, sweetie.”

 

Aramis' hand is smooth on his boyfriend's back. The tee-shirt sticking to his skin and there's sweat on his bare arm. It shakes under Aramis' fingers. He rests his chin against Porthos' back, kisses his shoulder blade and wraps one arm around his chest. He can feel Porthos relax after a minute or two.

 

“You're my wonderful man, ours, and even though tonight sucked, I'm here and I've no doubt Anne will fix everything. Kiss me.”

 

Porthos chuckles, obliges him and ends up clinging to Aramis for strength.

 

“I'm sorry I shouted at you,” he apologizes. “You didn't deserve it. I was an ass. It's a sensitive subject. Your past.”

 

“Thank you. And I'm aware. You're forgiven.”

 

Porthos kisses him again. Lush lips conveying comfort and reassurance. They're all in the same boat and Aramis has a calming effect now that they're not arguing anymore. Porthos buries his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck, tries to look at the bright side.

 

At Mati's performance. At how he waved and hugged Porthos afterwards. Because Porthos is his stepfather no matter what and they're family. At how accepting of Aramis Anne's parent are and will hopefully continue to be. Porthos may be angry, he can at least be happy for his boyfriend. Besides, Anne's parents didn't look as terrifying as she claimed they were. Cold and out of his world perhaps yet not worse than most older people staring at him and Aramis whenever they're in public.

 

Somewhere in the bunch of clothes dropped on the floor, Porthos' phone rings and he almost misses the cal, reluctant to let go of Aramis and the silence of their embrace.

 

“It's Anne,” he says, surprised yet somehow relieved that she'd call. That they'd talk some more before any of them went to bed and kept on churning the problem in their head, far away from the other. Porthos takes the call, because he believes he's calmer now and they won't fight. Not on the phone. Aramis smiles encouragingly. “Hey.”

 

“Porthos? Hi, it's me.....it's Anne.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Of course. I....hmm....is it a bad time?”

 

“We're at the gym.”

 

“Oh, I....I can call back later if you're....”

 

There's shuffling on her side of the line, hesitation. She's so ready to hang up already.

 

“No! We're good. I was just letting out some steam.”

 

“....Because of me.” It's not a question. Porthos doesn't see the need to sugarcoat it.

 

“Because of what you did, yeah. Or didn't do, rather.”

 

There's a long sigh coming from Anne. She feels like crying now that she is home, without her parents. Tears of frustration and rage.

 

“I'm sorry, Porthos. I really am. I love you and you're not a secret. I swear you're not. But I …. I didn't want to ruin Mati's big night,” she finally explains.

 

“It may not have been.”

 

“I didn't want to risk it.”

 

“Well, you could have told me that.”

 

It should have been obvious to him, Anne thinks. But doesn't say out loud.

 

“Yes. But you also said....like last Thursday wasn't....you said....I....you know....”

 

“Hey, Anne, calm down.”

 

Porthos can hear how anxious and distraught she is, how heavy her breathing is in the phone. Aramis raises an eyebrow. He doesn't want to hear the entire conversation, it's not his to hear, but only having access to one half of it isn't helping either.

 

“I didn't mean to make you panic. And I also didn't mean what I said about that,” Porthos continues. “I do know what it meant for you, what it means even now. And it was fantastic.” He says that every time, because truly, it was. Anne in his arms like that, grasping his skin, his shoulders and her ragged breathing in his ear. Her arms clutching his neck and her entire body flushed to his. It's been in his dreams so often that somehow, he needs to be close and touch her whenever they're around. Which is why it hurt so deeply when she rejected him at the school.

 

There's a soft laugh at his compliment and Anne is relieved. A little bit.

 

“But, Anne, it hurt to see I wasn't included completely anymore.”

 

“I know. I'll....It won't happen again. I'll talk to them. I'll make it right.”

 

“Whatever you're doing, it's for you. Not for them,” Porthos reminds her. She needs it. She's too focused on her parents' reaction and she's been making it about them.

 

“And for you. You're my boyfriend. Whether it pleases them or not.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are we okay, Porthos?”

 

He rubs his face, rubs his closed eyes. They not totally good, not yet. But she's by herself and he doesn't want to add to her burden.

 

“Yeah. We'll be better when it'll be sorted out.”

 

“Yes. I'll....I'll see you both tomorrow now?”

 

“Yeah.” Porthos beckons Aramis closer because that's a part of the phonecall he doesn't mind sharing.

 

“Is Mati in bed already?” Aramis chimes in.

 

“Oh, almost.”

 

As if on cue, there's some loud noise in the background on her side and her reproach for her son to quit jumping and settle down.

 

“Can you tell him one more time that he was amazing? The best and that I'm very proud of him? And give him a big kiss. Or a hug if he doesn't want a kiss.”

 

Anne laughs softly again and Aramis smiles, hanging on to Porthos' arm. He can't forget that despite the arguments and what the adults are going through, his son just did something great and it's the first school play Aramis attended with his son in it and he's so immensely smug to have seen Mati up there on the stage.

 

“I love you both,” Anne says quietly.

 

“We love you, too,” Aramis replies for the both of them. He knows he can. “Get some rest, Anne. We'll see you in the morning.”

 

He stays close to Porthos after they've hung up. Silent in the quiet of the empty gym. Porthos is staring at his phone, his mind far away in Anne's appartment. He wishes all of this was beyond them already.

 

“It's not easy. What we're doing,” he admits. Aramis can't deny it.

 

“Nope. But I think we're doing a pretty good job. Talking. Being together. I love you and even when there are setbacks, we always come around. Her parents are nothing we can't overcome. I mean, look, her father has just become my number one fan.”

 

“You win all the hearts in town, cupcake.”

 

“Yours is one of the only ones I care about.”

 

Aramis' nose touches Porthos' softly. Then his lips do the same. Porthos isn't so angry anymore. A little bit at things he can't control but he has Aramis in his arms, his sunny smile and tinkling eyes. His handsome, clever face.

 

“Let's go,” Porthos decides.

 

“Where?”

 

“Home. To bed.”

 

“I like that.” Aramis grins and Porthos shakes his head.

 

“To sleep.”

 

“I know. I like teasing you.”

 

“I like where you mind just went, though.”

 

“When don't you?”

 

Porthos slaps his boyfriend's ass after he's turned around and winked. Aramis yelps. Porthos growls playfully, Aramis chuckles and pushes against the other's chst with both hands. Then he smoothes Porthos' jacket, fixes his hair so it's perfect. Then Porthos' beard.

 

“Thank you for being here, 'mis.”

 

“Always.”

 

Whatever happens Aramis is always by Porthos' side indeed and it's a simple assurance which lifts his spirits. Tomorrow is another day and Porthos will be nervous again, to meet Anne's parents again after nothing tremendously catastrophic happened with them tonight. He hates that the news has been postponed but Aramis is right, they just have to wait and hope for the best. Porthos is still hoping for the best.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened last Thursday will be addressed in another story when I'll be done with this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lunch at Anne's. 
> 
> Lots of italics = lots of Spanish (Aramis and Porthos will always responde in French even when Mati insists in Spanish. That's how you help young children become fluent in different languages)

Perhaps it's a household rule that Mati will always be the one opening the front door when his fathers come to visit. Having his grandparents to distract him doesn't make today any different. With his little hand on the doorknob and Aramis knowing better than to help him crack the door more open. It takes Mati's two hands to do it yet he's proud of it. To be able to do this by himself. He does let whoever comes inside last close the door, though. He's too busy saying hi to his father to remember this.

 

He wants a hug that Aramis can barely give him, his hands full with homemade dessert. Mati settles for a kiss and tries to escape the fingers tousling his hair.

 

“ _Papá!”_ he whines.

 

“How's it going, champion?”

 

“ _I've new toys! Do you want to see?”_

 

“Aren't you forgetting something first?”Aramis cocks his head towards Porthos and the boy scampers to a free set of arms at last.

 

“ _I've new toys, Porfos!”_ he exclaims again, pointing at them. _“Come and see!”_

 

“Aren't you lucky! _”_

 

“ _Yes! Did you make cake, Pap_ _á_ _?”_ Mati stares at the box, follows Aramis when he sets it down on the dining table. Then he can hardly contain himself when he peeks inside to find out. _“Strawberries!”_ he shrills. _“Mam_ _á_ _! Strawberries!”_

 

“I think everyone heard you, buddy. Tone it down a notch. Thanks,” Aramis demands.

 

Anne's parents are sitting in the living room, toys scattered all around them, which makes it hard to navigate the room. They've winced at their grandson's enthusiasm even though Mati doesn't calm down.

 

“ _We've heard great things about your baking skills,”_ Anne's father remarks after they've made their greetings. Her mother's handshake is as fast as Aramis ever remembers it yet it's there so he won't complain. She doesn't say much to him, though. Her father on the other hand, is as jovial as he was the night before. The school play wasn't an exception then.

 

“ _I hope it'll live up to the rumors.”_

 

“ _Papá makes yummy cakes!”_

 

“Thank you, champion.”

 

Aramis smiles at his son, smiles at his audience, smiles at Porthos fidgeting, waiting for their hostess to show up. It smells good in the appartment. There are fresh flowers on the already set table. It's incredibly sunny. The perfect start to summer. As soon as the shadows above their heads will have cleared.

 

“ _I'm hungry,”_ Mati whines, unaware of his stepfather scanning the place. _“I can have more Coke to wait?”_

 

“ _Sorry we being late,”_ Porthos eventually says, trying with all his might to speak a language he hears often but hardly ever speaks.

 

“ _Are late, Porfos,”_ Mati corrects, not looking up from the coffee table when no one else would have mentioned the mistake. The boy makes Porthos smile and it casts off some of the dark clouds in his mind.

 

“Thanks, kiddo. _I work each Saturdays.”_

 

“ _We're used to eating later in Spain,”_ Anne's father dismisses his apology. _“I wouldn't say you're late.”_

 

“ _I'm still hungry!”_ Mati whines some more until someone -his grandmother- gives him a drink and some chips to munch on.

 

“ _Anne, darling, you have more guests,”_ she calls out, because it's rude of her daughter to ignore the men's arrival. Regardless of what a great host Mati is. And regardless of how she doesn't see why the men _should_ be here in the first place. It's a family lunch and as far as she's concerned, Aramis and Porthos don't belong in her family.

 

Some mumbles reach them from the kitchen. Anne so wants this meal to be a success that she's determined to cook excellent food even if it means being on a clock and away from everyone else. Aramis practically had to beg for her to accept his dessert.

 

There's a quiet knock on the ajar door when she hasn't budged from her counter. Porthos' appearance is a nice surprise and she forgets what she was doing. Porthos barely has time to take in her hair piled messily on her head, her dirty apron and her hands full of goo, of flour and other sticky ingredients that Anne is hugging him with all the relief and affection she failed to demonstrate the night before. Porthos can only reciprocate. Her tiny yet toned body flushed to his chest, her fingers clutching his tee-shirt.

 

She smells wonderful. He's missed that. He's missed her.

 

“I told them I had to tell them something important,” Anne says without preamble, her face still hidden in his tee-shirt. His hands are so strong on the small of her back and she exhales loudly when she hears him breathe in her scent.

 

From her parents' greetings, Porthos has gathered they weren't aware of everything yet. But overreacting got them in tremendous trouble the day before. He's willing to try and be more understanding today. Aramis' words from the gym are still resonating in his head, about him not being able to control how Anne acts.

 

“My mom knows something is up, though. She asked if anything was wrong.”

 

“Moms can be quite perceptive I suppose.”

 

“It's not that hard today.”

 

Anne raises her head and one look at her exhausted face makes it obvious. Anyone would notice it, even strangers. The bags under her eyes and the whiteness of her skin. More than usual. Porthos can't feel frustrated with her anymore. Not when she appears so distressed. He realized she was upset by having to talk to her parents but he clearly didn't expect it to go to such great lengths.

 

“Have you slept at all?”

 

Anne's answer is a dry chuckle. Something that _Porthos_ would do. He responds by an ever fiercer hug and Anne tip toes to kiss his cheek, to kiss his lips. There. Much better. She feels comforted a little.

 

“You're going to make yourself sick, Anne.”

 

“It really isn't easy.”

 

“It's not,” he concedes, rubbing her back. Glad that the door has closed on the rest of the family so they can have a normal conversation without being surrounded by a crowd. “Maybe it was wrong of me to insist so much.”

 

“No. You're right. You're both right. I can't have you all here and not say anything. I mean, that's kind of the whole reason why I asked you to come have lunch. I should have explained it to you. I was wrong. My mom knows it has something to do with my dating life,” she goes on, taking deep breaths. “Because she wouldn't stop nagging earlier but Mati was needy so I didn't manage to explain properly and....I said later. Again. But now she won't stop staring whenever I'm around, trying to find out what exactly it is I'm keeping from them. I can't take it.”

 

“Hence the hiding in the kitchen.”

 

“To my defense, I _am_ cooking. Or trying.”

 

She gestures at the mess on the table and the kitchen counter. At the cookbook and the pots in the sink.

 

“And it smells fantastic. I'm starving.”

 

“I hope so. Oh no!” Anne suddenly exclaims, remembering her hands, all dirty that they are. She snatches them back, steps away to assess the damage done to Porthos' clothes. She raises sheepish eyes at him. “Sorry.”

 

“It's just a tee-shirt,” he waves it off, watching as she hurries to wash her hands. He steals some of the food in the salad bowl and smiles kindly at her when she notices.

 

He appreciates what she's doing, in spite of her mistakes. The bold moves forward. Facing the situation and her mother -mostly. Porthos also remembers how difficult it was for him the first time he had to face Tréville so he does understand all the emotions Anne is going through. Although he had no one to help when he was younger. So he also understands why she wanted them around.

 

“You know what? I remember throwing up whenever I tried to tell my dad when I was a teenager. No that I'm saying that you should. Definitely not. I don't want you to be sick, Anne. I know I'm always saying that it was a relief he knew and really, it was, but I was scared out of my mind. I had imagined dozens of ways the conversation could go. Most of them ended in a catastrophe. So I get what you're going through. I'm sorry about yesterday.”

 

Porthos sees her shaking her head at the sink, her shoulders shaking a bit, too. She's facing away from him now but they're close enough for him to notice how her entire body is trembling.

 

“You were right to be hurt. I don't want to hurt you. You don't deserve it, Porthos. You're wonderful. But I'm....terrified,” she confesses.

 

“They seem to be lovely folks. Not as scary as you guys mentioned. Look at Aramis, he doesn't mind being with them. And I believe they're actually _talking_.”

 

Anne lets silence settle for a few seconds and yes, there is a muffled conversation going on in the other room. She didn't leave her parents a choice about Aramis being a part of her life and they've had months to come to terms with the fact that Anne won't stay away from Aramis because they resent him for what they believe was a mistake made years ago. They just have to accept him. Thank God they are.

 

“Well, yes,” she concedes. “That's a happy development.”

 

There's the sound of her sniffing and she makes to wipe at her cheeks. Porthos is behind her at once. His hands firm on her shoulders until Anne sags against his chest, his arm keeping her close. She's relieved there's no desire to fight between them anymore. That he's here and he's supportive.

 

“It's gonna be fine, I promise. Perhaps not easy, most definitely not, but I'm here. We're here and we're not letting you do this alone, if you don't want to.”

 

He lets her cry for a while, doesn't try to make her stop. It'd be useless and there's so much pent-up tension in her heart that it needs out. He doesn't accept the way he was treated the day before yet she's aware she was wrong on that front. That no amount of fear or stress could excuse her rudeness. Anne will make sure it never happens again. It's behind them now, Porthos believes. She didn't mean to act like she did, she's making up for it with her display of affection right now amidst her tears. So Porthos wants to concentrate on a happier resolution for today.

 

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “Whenever you want. With you and your parents.”

 

“You don't have to.”

 

“If I can help. I mean, my Spanish is rubbish so I might not be very useful but....”

 

“Your Spanish is great. My mom said so last night. You impressed her.”

 

“See? She already loves me.”

 

Anne's body shakes against his chest at his joke.

 

“Thank you, Porthos,” she whispers, ever so grateful. He gently turns her around so he can dry her cheeks himself. His thumbs are rough on her skin yet she sinks into the caring touch. “You're my boyfriend.”

 

“I am.”

 

He smiles gently.

 

“And you deserve the whole world to know it. You're amazing.”

 

“Not all the time but thanks.”

 

“I just don't want Mati to be caught up in all of this.He's too young.” Anne chews on her lip, attempts to get her breathing under control. It's one of her biggest fears. Shouts and screams and perhaps arguments that the boy wouldn't understand. She must protect him.

 

“Because he's the man of your life,” Porthos cheekily jokes again, an echo of a past conversation they had two weeks ago. Anne likes the jokes, it's a refreshing change. A breath of fresh air and she giggles in spite of herself.

 

“One of them, yes.”

 

“Well, I guess I can survive lunch with your parents not knowing if we're only waiting for him to be napping.”

 

It means more time being only Aramis' boyfriend, which isn't okay with Porthos, but at least he knows she'll talk to them before the end of the day. Except it's suddenly not okay with Anne either, adamant to atone for her mistakes.

 

“No.” She shakes her heard forcefully. “I ignored you yesterday and I'm still hating myself for it. I'm not ignoring you again. Not if I can avoid it. I'm telling them now.”

 

Or else she'll chicken out again. Besides, she doesn't quite suppose she could handle much more dreadful anticipation. Whenever it'll happen, it'll be a nasty moment anyway.

 

Porthos looks at her, ready to charge into the living room and just deliver the news like that. He's a bit stunned.

 

“.....Okay? Hmmm...uh....but Mati...”

 

“Are you baking that bread or what?” Aramis interrupts, barging in the kitchen, the child in tow. “We've been waiting forever.”

 

He appreciates her parents' efforts to not let silence grow too awkward and make small talk but really, he can't wait for Porthos and Anne to join them.

 

“I'm telling my parents now,” Anne announces, willing her voice to be steady. Her hearbeat is increasing.

 

Aramis looks taken aback as well. He stops dead in his track.

 

“Okay?”

 

“She just doesn't want _him_ here.” Porthos tilts his head as subtly as he can towards Mati who is more interested in what is in the oven than in what the adults are saying.

 

Aramis studies them both, wondering how a simple trip to the kitchen to say hi and offer a hand could have brought about such developments. Of course he was aware Porthos was eager to discuss the issue which was never properly settled the night before. Which is why he kept Anne's parents company. He certainly wasn't thrilled to do it and absolutely not expecting such a quick and sudden turn of events. At least the others are not fighting anymore. Anne has been crying though.

 

“You're very brave and very strong,” he praises in her ear when he hugs her for comfort. “And you're becoming an excellent cook. It looks delicious.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You'll feel better afterwards, trust me. I love you.”

 

She's clinging to him, even as Aramis stumbles a bit to include Porthos in the embrace. His boyfriend responds with quite some strength, crushing Aramis. He is correct. They're a grand team all together. They can do anything.

 

Even though all of a sudden, Porthos is scared and nervous all over again. It's one thing to reassure Anne, it's another to realize he'll be having a surely uncomfortable and delicate discussion in the very near future.

 

“Do you have bread?” Aramis asks out of the blue.

 

“I....Yes. Why?”

 

“No, you don't. Mati and I are going out to buy some,” he decides. “It wouldn't be a French lunch without some bread, would it? Oh, you can come, too,” he adds for Porthos, unsure of what Anne wants. She's the one calling the shots. It's her family.

 

“I'll stay. If that's okay.”

 

“Sure it is, sweetie.” Aramis gives him a loud kiss on the cheek. “All right! Mati, buddy, gear up!” He calls out and startles his son. “We're going out!”

 

Anne hears the faint echo of Aramis explaining so naturally the lie he came up with to her parents. She's alone now that Porthos has followed their boyfriend out of the kitchen, giving her a little space to collect her thoughts. She doesn't even have the courage to speak against Aramis when he bribes their son with pastries to entice him out of the appartment. Staying in with the new toys sounded much better.

 

He'll see them again soon enough. Her parents brought tons and bought some more in the city when they arrived. A shower of presents to make up for lost time. Mati is over the moon with all the attention. He never wants his grandparents to leave ever again.

 

Anne busies herself with putting some away, avoiding her father's eyes. It's clear something has shaken her up. Her eyes must be puffy and she knows for a fact she's acting strange. She's been since the school play.

 

“ _That's a beautiful shirt you have, sweetheart,”_ her mother comments when Mati comes back with something to wear on top of his tee-shirt. He's focused on buttoning it before he lets his mother finish it for him.

 

“ _It has Batman on it! And here his car!”_ The boy swirls to show his grandparents the back of the clothing. _“Grandpa Tréville gave it to me because I fell with my bike and I made a hole in the red shirt.”_

 

“ _Who's that?”_ Her father perks up at the new unfamiliar name.

 

“ _Porthos' father. Mati learned to ride his bike with him.”_

 

Anne's stare dares them to speak up against Tréville. Their faces are indication enough that they must not approve of the way Mati refers to him. She refuses to argue with her parents in front of her son. About anything.

 

“ _Porfos? Wave at me with Mamá when I'm in the street? Please?”_

 

“What? _Wave_? What's that?”

 

“Wave,” Mati translates. “With your hand.” And he gives him a demonstration.

 

“Like your mom does when we come to pick you up?”

 

“Yes! On the balcony. I want to see you. Papá can wave, too! But don't lean and fall.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Deep inside, Porthos finds the will to laugh at the boy's cute antics. Unware of the tension building in his mother's bones as she fails to take part in the ritual. Porthos isn't even certain she heard her son's request. Mati will be disappointed but he trusts Aramis to make up for it.

 

“ _He's calling him grandpa?”_ Anne's mother can't help pressing when they're sort of alone with their daughter.

 

“ _He is. Because he considers Porthos to be his dad so naturally that makes Tréville his grandfather. A great one. They get along very well.”_

 

“ _Porthos isn't his father, Anne. You and I both know that.”_

 

“ _You're confusing the poor child, leading him on like this,”_ her father adds. _“Is he going to change grandparents whenever Aramis decides to date someone new?”_

 

Anne takes a really deep breath, sits on the armchair to face her parents. She glances at Porthos' back by the open windows.

 

“ _First of all, thank you for your concern. But Mati is_ my _son, not yours and I know how to take care of him. Physically_ and _mentally. He's not confused. We explained our situation and he's fine. A lot of children have stepfathers.”_

 

“ _Not many have them who live together. I'm not saying what you're doing is wrong,”_ he says for when Porthos is done waving and joins them. He stands tall behind Anne, both hands flat on the armchair.

 

“ _But you're thinking it. You never liked the idea,”_ Anne challenges.

 

“ _We're being friendly, aren't we? Not approving of a particular lifestyle doesn't mean I have to be rude. I can see you're someone Mati appreciates.”_ He waits for Porthos to catch up on that and Anne loves her father for being patient. She'd love him more if he hadn't insulted Porthos straight to his face. _“You and Aramis seem to be taking good care of him.”_

 

“ _They are. Mati adores it. To have more than two parents. As far as he's concerned, it means more people to con.”_

 

“ _He doesn't have more than_ two _parents, Anne,”_ her mother refuses to hear this. _“That's a ridiculous concept.”_

 

“ _He does. He has Aramis and I and he has Porthos. Because contrary to what you may believe, Aramis doesn't go around changing partners every other week. They've been together for two years._ _And they signed a civil partnership last month so we're looking into ways for Porthos to adopt Mati._ ”

 

Anne stares at two shocked faces. There's more coming to the fore than just her having two boyfriends. It reassures her to have to defend the men first. She's sadly used to it.

 

“ _Adopt? Why?”_ Her mother glares at Porthos so hard it annoys Anne.

 

“ _So someone can look after Mati if something happens to either one of us.”_

 

“ _What about us?”_

 

“ _Porthos is more than capable of doing it, mother.”_ Anne looks up at his serious face. He hasn't said a word, hardly blinking under her parents' scrutiny. She squeezes his hand softly and Porthos' heart stutters at the open display of affection. _“Mati has grown used to his life here so it wouldn't do to uproot him again. Just in case. It's our choice. Not that we're planning on dying anytime soon.”_

 

“ _Well, that's simply ridiculous."_

 

“ _What strange ideas have they put into your head now? You cannot be serious. You can't let people rob you of your parenthood like that!”_ Her father raises his voice. _  
_

 

“ _What?”_

 

“ _Excuse me. Rob?”_ Porthos speaks up. It's going faster, it's more difficult to follow. Anne is distraught. Angry.

 

“Steal,” she translates. Porthos looks at her father with wide-eyed. Who does he think he is? _“And nobody is! I'll still be Mati's mother! He'll just have one more legal guardian. Porthos is family now._ "

 

 _"We_ are _your family, Anne and no offence, but you're not. Family. ”_

 

“ _Mother!”_ Anne feels Porthos' fingers clench underneath her palm. He does understand much more than he gives himself credit for. And there are specific things Anne's parents _want_ him to understand.

 

“ _Anne,”_ her father reprimands her. _“We_ are _his grandparents. We were there when he was born. When he was a baby. Have you forgotten how much we helped?”_

 

“ _I haven't. And I'm grateful you were here for us but Porthos_ is _family,"_ she repeats, not accepting their refusal. _“You may not consider him as such yet he is. Whether you like it or not. He's Aramis'. Legally. Who happens to be the legitimate father of your grandchild. And....Porthos is mine, too. My family.”_

 

The blood is pounding in her ears and Anne's looking straight at the wall behind her parents. She feels that if she were to even move a little, she'd be dizzy.

 

“ _Anne, darling, do you hear yourself?”_ Her father is looking at her as if something was incredibly wrong with her brains. Like the words coming out of her mouth don't make sense at all. _“It's great that you're getting along so well. All of you. For your son. And I'm glad you seem content here. But you must think about yourself, too. And stay realistic.”_

 

“ _What?”_

 

“ _You cannot spend all your time with them.”_

 

“ _Your father is right, Anne. How are you going to find a suitable husband if you do everything together? What was even the point of them being here today?”_

 

Anne's mother says it in such a patronizing way that Porthos is rapidly changing his opinion about them. They aren't so lovely anymore. He doesn't pretend to understand everything but he does get bits and pieces and their body language is a good indication of their disapproval. They're also openly insulting him, which he can't do anything about. He isn't comfortable enough with his Spanish to talk back.

 

“ _Jesus Christ, people! I do_ not _need a husband to feel complete!”_ Anne cries out, fed up with this particular complaint of theirs. _“I'm happy without one. I'm happy with Porthos and Aramis!”_

 

“ _Do_ not _yell at your mother. And do not swear. We didn't raise you like that.”_

 

“ _I'm 30! And you also didn't raise me to insult people to their faces yet that's exactly what you're doing to Porthos! That's exactly what.....”_

 

Somehow, being caught up in a bigger argument makes it easier to tell her parents. Because Anne is determined to defend and protect the men against these verbal assaults. And she has Porthos' presence close by to rely upon. His hand in hers. So her voice is steady in spite of herself. Calmer than she was seconds before.

 

“ _That's exactly what you're doing to my boyfriend.”_

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any grammar mistakes when Porthos is speaking are made on purpose. His Spanish isn't perfect after all :)

The silence settling in the living room grows heavy. Suffocating. Anne can hear the cars down in the street as distinctively as if she was on the sidewalk. Closer, she can feel her heart pound in her chest, almost bursting through it. The blood pulsing in her neck, in her ears. The buzzing sounds and the way her surroundings are turning brighter until she closes her eyes. To find her parents still staring at her in disbelief when she blinks. Her own words swirl in her head, again and again. Ringing clearly.

 

Then her mother gives one nervous laugh. And a second.

 

“ _We're having a serious conversation, Anne,”_ her father scolds her. _“It's not the time for jokes.”_

 

“ _I'm not joking.”_

 

“ _Anne, please.”_

 

“ _I'm serious, Pap_ _á_ _. Porthos is my boyfriend.”_ Her voice gets steadier.

 

“ _You cannot date someone who already has a partner, sweetheart. Stop it.”_ Her mother's tone makes it sound like she's explaining the basics of life to a toddler.

 

“ _I can. And I am, mother. I'm dating Porthos_ and _Aramis. The both of them. They're my boyfriends.”_

 

Her mother pauses at the new unexpected information. Her mouth opens before her nervous laughter starts again. Porthos shifts on his legs behind the armchair, his hand clasped in Anne's. Her arm must be growing tired from the awkward position but she's not budging. If anything, her fingernails are digging into his palm.

 

Porthos holds her father's dark glare. The lack of understanding in his eyes shine. Anne has shocked her mother too much and the older woman seems to have lost her words. Her gaze flickers between her daughter and him. Still hoping for it to be a joke. But Anne looks dead serious, in spite of her foot nervously tapping the floor and her free fingers drumming on her thigh.

 

She starts violently at her father's sudden outburst.

 

“ _What have you done to her?”_ he yells, standing up, aiming for Porthos who takes a step back. Only on instinct. He hasn't understood the meaning of the shout but the intent he completely gets.

 

“ _Pap_ _á_ _!”_ Anne exclaims, standing up as well to stop him from getting to Porthos. She's mostly ignored, though.

 

“ _How could you let yourself be conned like that?”_

 

“ _Nobody is conning me! I just happen to like the two of them and they like me, too. Calm down, Papá. Please.”_

 

“ _I love their daughter....,”_ Porthos starts.

 

“ _Don't you dare speak to me!”_

 

“ _Papá, please. Stop assaulting Porthos like that!”_

 

“ _Anne, sweetheart,”_ her mother tries to reason. _“There's no such thing as dating two persons.”_

 

“ _I don't know what they're trying to do with you, but I won't let them.”_

 

Her father is practically spitting out his rage and yes, Porthos is a little bit afraid of him now. Even though he's taller and stronger.

 

“ _I'm a big girl, Papá. Nobody is tricking me into doing anything. This is my choice. Ours. We've talked and we all know what we want. I've been happy with them.”_

 

“ _How can it even work out, Anne? How can you be sure that it's not some ploy....”_ Her mother has stood up, too, because staying seated in such a situation is clearly not possible. What do these men want with her daughter? First making Porthos adopt Mati and then that? That's just too much.

 

“ _I have their love and I trust them. That's enough,”_ Anne says, resolute. Trying to find enough inner calm so that the conversation won't degenerate more. _“I've been happier in the past two months than I've been in a very long time.”_

 

Surprisingly, her mother seems to actually be listening, probably to find a flaw in the reasoning. Her father's eyes are still throwing daggers at Porthos yet Porthos is steadier in his stance, almost flushed to Anne. He can only admire the courage with which she stands up to them.

 

“ _You'll get your heart broken refusing to hear us,”_ her mother retorts.

 

“ _Perhaps, Mam_ _á_ _. But that could happen with anyone. I don't see why seeking out a husband, since that's what you want, would make my life more secure. I mean, people get married all the time and look at how many get divorces. Even Felipe is getting divorced. I don't see why committing to one person for the rest of my life would be safer than committing to two. I'm happy,”_ Anne stresses yet again.

 

“ _That's ridiculous. You're just too stubborn. You'll grow out of it. To finally live an appropriate life.”_

 

Anne's eyes narrow at her father's insults. She's baffled that he could actually think he knows what's best for her.

 

“ _I'm finally living_ my _life for_ myself _! It's been all about Mati for years and now, for once...”_

 

“ _Ah yes! Your son! Have you thought about what people will say when they find out what of life you subject him to?”_

 

“ _I don't care what people say, father! I care about myself and my happiness. And believe it or not, Mati knows love and it's only love that he sees between us. It's good enough for him. It should be good enough for you, too!”_

 

Anne is so deeply hurt that her father can't try to understand. It was to be expected but experiencing it is more hurtful. Her hands tremble by her sides. Porthos feels the tremors after he's put one reassuring hand on her hip. If looks could kill, her father would have killed him already.

 

“ _I'm not asking for your approval.”_ Even her voice is shaking now. Anne is tired of them using Mati as an excuse to question and criticize all her decisions simply because they don't approve. _“I'm telling you this because it's my life and you're my parents and I love you. I'm happy. To have found people who love me and that I love. And I wish you could be happy for me.”_

 

“ _I don't see how.”_

 

Her father's words are like a punch to the stomach. There are tears swelling in her eyes. The very same Anne hoped she would be able to keep at bay. But she's been shouted at, treated like a child and her parents sound and look so cold. Foreign. Her shoulders heave.

 

“ _I talk now.”_ Porthos takes a deep breath. He said he'd be here for support, by her side through this tough time. He can't let anyone harm her. Especially not her parents. _“I love their daughter. Anne is nice, intelligent, beautiful. She is incredible. Strong.”_

 

Anne smiles, blinks and a tear falls down her cheek.

 

“ _She's a good people,”_ he goes on. _“Don't make her sad.”_

 

“ _You said not approving of a lifestyle didn't mean you had to be rude, Pap_ _á_ _,”_ she reminds her father of his earlier words. Porthos' hands are gripping her waist, his strength keeping her standing. She'd wobble if he weren't there.

 

“ _Well, I didn't expect you to be involved in_ that _. I've never heard of it. It's not how you should behave. It won't lead anywhere.”_

 

“ _It's not how_ you _think I should behave and yes, I've been a disappointment for years,”_ Anne admits. _“But you're still my parents. I need you to understand.”_

 

“ _Oh, Anne, sweetheart. You're not a disappointment.”_ Her mother sighs, comes forward to give her a hug. Porthos cleverly steps back after she's stared at him. Anne literally sinks in her mother's arms. _“You've made some bad choices but Porthos is correct. You_ are _incredible. An incredible mother and your work at the museum is incredible.”_

 

Anne sniffs, appreciates how her mother is acknowledging Porthos. That she's heard how he talked about her. She tenses at her father's hand on her back. But it's gentle and warm so she relaxes a little.

 

“ _I don't think what you say you're doing is right,”_ her mother says, _“and I'm sure it'll end in a disaster but you're not a disappointment. You're my beautiful daughter.”_

 

Anne gasps; her mother's words make her cry more. To be comforted in spite of their disapproval. She was secretly hoping she could change their minds. That she could perhaps make them understand how precious and fulfilling her relationship is. This was clearly too much to hope for. At least they don't seem to be casting her off.

 

“ _Do you love her?”_ her father asks, also acknowledging Porthos standing close to their small cluster. It's like the older man is trying to pierce through his very soul with his squinting eyes. Porthos has never been so uncomfortable in his life.

 

“ _Yes.”_ It echoes in the room. True and honest. He can't lie about those feelings.

 

“ _If_ you _make her sad,”_ her father threatens, using words he knows Porthos will understand, _“if_ you _make her sad, you or Aramis, you will be very sorry. Her or Mati.”_

 

“ _We don't make her sad. I swear,”_ Porthos struggles with a word heard earlier, hoping he's using it correctly. He feels like a schoolboy.

 

So that must be how it feels to be introduced to terrifying in-laws. Stressful and dramatic and he won't do it every day. He's thankful Anne's parents live in another country.

 

“Here, drink,” he hands Anne some water when she's free from her mother's embrace. Her eyes are redder, her cheeks drenched. Her heart does feel a bit lighter.

 

The glass trembles in her hand but she downs it, ignoring the water dripping down her neck.

 

“ _Was that what you wanted to tell us?_ ” her mother inquires.

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

“ _Oh, I thought you'd met someone.”_

 

“ _I did.”_

 

“ _Well, yes, I suppose. You're making me age faster with all these troubles, Anne.”_

 

“ _I'm sorry.”_

 

“ _I shouldn't hope that it'll make you change your mind, though?”_

 

“ _No.”_ This wasn't even a question Anne ever considered. Nothing her parents could have said would have made her choose them above her boyfriends.

 

“ _Give me something to drink,”_ her mother demands.

 

Anne hurries to refill her glass with wine, aware of how Porthos and her father haven't stopped staring at each other. Aramis is more likely in for a similar conversation when he'll be back. She can't prevent it.

 

“ _It would have all been easier if you hadn't met Aramis,”_ her mother remarks. It always comes down to that.

 

“ _I wouldn't have Mati. I'll never be sorry for that.”_

 

“ _True. This,”_ she gestures at Porthos, _“wouldn't have happened if you had stayed in Madrid.”_

 

“ _I'd move a thousand times away from Madrid if it meant being with people who love and value me. You don't have to like them. I'm just asking for you to respect them. Papá?”_

 

“ _Is that a new trend I'm unaware of?”_

 

He shakes his head, dusts off his trousers and eventually settles down in the couch again. Porthos only relaxes then.

 

“ _To love me?”_ Anne insists. _“We're talking about love here. Not just...It's not just casual dating. It's not....I mean, you know. Don't make me say it out loud.”_

 

Anne's cheeks flush for a completely different reason. She never wants to have to say the word “sex” while talking to her father. Porthos's chuckle breaks the icy atmosphere. In spite of himself. Anne is just too adorable.

 

“ _I'm following, yes.”_ Her father clears his throat. _“To date multiple people?”_

 

“ _Why would it have to be a trend? It's what makes us comfortable. I'm not going to fight my feelings. I'm not going to argue anymore either. Aramis will be back soon. We're all going to have lunch together. Because like it or not, you're all my family. You, them, Mati. You can either take it or leave it.”_

 

That's the resolute -and yes, a bit stubborn- Anne that Porthos has been growing fond of. The woman taking no bullshit from anyone. Strangers, acquaintances, parents. The one holding her ground, fighting for what she wants. Making mistakes yet fixing them in the end.

 

The spectacular woamn he's crazy about.

 

Anne's mother sighs, drinks some more white wine before sitting back down next to her husband. Showing no sign of wanting to leave.

 

“ _It does smell great. And strawberries are my favorite.”_

 

Anne exhales a shuddering breath. Her parents don't agree, like she suspected they wouldn't. But they're cordial now. After their rage. They're rising above their disapproval and resentment. Their belief that their daughter is making a terrible mistake. Anne is determined to prove them wrong. She knows in her heart they're wrong. She won't live a life set to _their_ standards if it doesn't suit her.

 

She'll live one with Mati. With Aramis. And with Porthos who is so wonderful. He's stayed calm despite his obvious anger. He's avoided screaming and insulting people who were doing exactly that to him. He's been supportive as he's ignored the fight her father was trying to pick with him. Anne loves him more for it all.

 


	5. Chapter 5

As far as lunches go, Aramis has attended more entertaining ones. There's a tense atmosphere from the moment Mati and him are back from their errands. Everybody is still there, though, so whatever drama Anne thought would unfold wasn't as catastrophic as she expected. One thing is for sure, her father has more or less lost the amicable countenance he had been displaying so far. No more inquiring about Aramis' job, about his future prospects. Instead, Aramis finds himself subjected to dark glares. Not from Anne's mother who is pointedly avoiding looking at anybody but her daughter or her grandson.

 

Anne makes every effort to act as normal as possible because she has nothing to apologize for. Her parents will probably come around and they _are_ making some compliments. About the food, about the stories Mati is telling. She doubts he's completely oblivious to the change in the general mood but he has so much to talk about that it won't stop him. She has the distraction to always make sure he eats.

 

She wishes there weren't two conversations at the table. One with her parents and one with her boyfriends. Hardly ever overlapping. Porthos is sitting by her side and he lets her graze his thigh with her fingers, he lets her hold his hand when she needs it. A great comfort indeed. With his kind smile. Anne feels much lighter after that dreaded converstion even though having to live through her parents' disapproval is a bit unnerving. The worst is behind them, she's sure of it and witnessing Porthos' more carefree attitude when he interacts with her now makes Anne thankful she's been brave enough to do the right thing.

 

Her parents will eventually see for themselves that she's not being played, that the men are nothing short of loving and honest with her. That this may not be a life cut out for her parents yet Anne is blooming in it. It's all that should matter. They'll realize this like they've been realizing that Aramis was an excellent caretaker for their grandson. It'll just take some time.

 

At least her mother congratulates Aramis on his amazing baking skills while they're eating dessert. Only with a flicker of her eyes and words spoken as fast as she could to barely be understood. Yet she did. Before helping herself to another piece of cake. In the aftermath of earlier, it's almost a miracle.

 

That's about the extent of what she says, quickly disappearing in the kitchen with her husband and daughter. Supposedly eager to help with the dishes. More like trying to talk some sense into Anne, Aramis is afraid. Not that they'll manage.

 

He hurries to change seats at the table to collapse as close to Porthos as he can. His boyfriend is finishing his coffee, frowning like he's been whenever he believed nobody was looking at him. At this point, Aramis can't tell if it's because Porthos is upset or if he's trying to understand the conversation.

 

“So, I take it they didn't make that much of a scene?” Aramis inquires.

 

He doesn't want a play-by-play but he simply wants to know what's happened. It involves him and even though he understood the need for Mati to be away, it doesn't mean it was easy to let Anne behind to face the music. With or without Porthos. Aramis wishes he could have helped as well. Perhaps he did, in his own way.

 

Porthos sighs, rubs at his eyes and shrugs. He's exhausted, his head hurts and oh, he never thought he'd be so happy to be spoken to in French. His brain is so confused.

 

“No, they did. They certainly aren't happy. They didn't want to believe her. I think if Anne wasn't acting more normally with us now, they wouldn't believe her yet. But she's their daughter and they love her. I just guess you've lost your new fan, 'mis.”

 

“Yes, I think I guessed that. I'm glad they could show some common sense, though. For Anne.”

 

“Yeah,” Porthos mumbles.

 

“They were good to you, too, weren't they?”

 

Aramis isn't sure “good” is the most appropriate adjective but it's her parents they're talking about. Coming from them, this reaction is better than most.

 

Porthos shrugs again.

 

“If he hadn't had more self-control, I'm sure her dad would have punched me. He was that close. But it's fine, 'mis,” he adds when his boyfriend's eyes grow wide and horrified. “He didn't. They received quite shocking news for their standards. I'm just happy Tréville isn't like them.”

 

“Or my parents. I'm sorry I wasn't there with you.”

 

Aramis pets Porthos' hair slowly and it makes Porthos smile.

 

“You would have probably understood much more than I did but they were pretty clear even for me. And I had Anne. She was incredible.” Exactly like he knew she would. Keeping him a secret was never part of the plan so Porthos is positive that from now on, what happened the day before at Mati's school will never happen again. “Still. Not a pleasant moment regardless. You're right, they can be very scary.”

 

Porthos shivers at his own words. Aramis has had his share of tense conversations with Anne's parents. He can totally relate. His fingers graze his boyfriend's cheek softly and Porthos laughs quietly. Leans into the touch nonetheless.

 

“On the scale of ugly parent talks, it still doesn't top having to face my bio father,” he ponders out loud.

 

Because this was solely about him and his past back then. The family which abandoned him and that Porthos never had. It hurt deeper in his heart than the enraged father of his girlfriend refusing to accept his daughter's choice. If he had to choose, not that he wants to, Porthos would take Anne's parents over Belgard any day.

 

“You've had a rough year, sweetie.” Aramis draps one arm around Porthos' shoulders, gives him a quick kiss before resting his head on his shoulder. Porthos' arm sneaks around Aramis' waist, warm and sweaty, and squeezes.

 

“We've all had one. I want things to be easier now.”

 

“They should be. I hope.”

 

“I'm tired.”

 

“You _are_ amazing, Porthos. Really. You amaze me every day. Plunging into the unknown like that.”

 

“So are you,” Porthos reminds him.

 

“Letting us be with you and love you like you deserve it. I'm so lucky.”

 

“You're being cheesy, cupcake.”

 

Aramis hums his agreement, his nose nuzzling Porthos' neck. Up to his lips. It's the physical attention Porthos needed. As much as hand holding and sweet words. To be alone with Aramis for a while in a relative silence. A reminder of how simple things can be.

 

Until there's a loud noise in the kitchen. Something shattering. A couple of yelps and Mati scampers back to the living room.

 

“ _Mam_ _á_ _broken a glass,”_ he explains.

 

“ _Broke,”_ Aramis corrects.

 

“ _Broke. I have to play to not be hurt, Mamá said.”_

 

“Go on, then.”

 

There's a pile of toys and games taking a large corner of the room. Not counting those in the child's bedroom. How Mati isn't overwhelmed by the profusion is a mystery.

 

The boy studies them both for a second. Their tight embrace. Before he comes to tug on Porthos' hand.

 

“ _Stop kissing and come and play with me.”_

 

Porthos can't help the reluctantness crossing his eyes and how his lips twitch. He rubs his temple.

 

“Mati, give the Spanish a rest, will you?” Aramis urges.

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“Because Porthos is tired and it's easier for him in French.”

 

The child looks up at the adults, pouts, then resumes pulling on his stepfather's arm.

 

“Come play with me, Porfos.”

 

“Please.”

 

“Please,” Mati repeats urgently.

 

“Not that you have to,” Aramis says.

 

And Porthos certainly isn't in the mood for any playing. He's in the mood for napping. Anne's meal was succulent and on top of that, he has a viscious headache which would be better cured by lying down and closing his eyes than by being with Mati.

 

“Perhaps your mom needs more help,” Porthos hazards.

 

“No! You have to play and not be hurt, Porfos.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Yes! I've a game with horses.”

 

“Oh, yeah. I remember this one.”

 

At least he won't have to struggle with instructions. And he may not want to play, he also doesn't want to stand up to tantrums. He gives Aramis one last peck before following the child to his play mat.

 

It will always tug at Aramis' heart. His bulky boyfriend stooping to sit cross-legged and follow his son's orders. He can't believe it's been a year since Anne and Mati moved to Paris. Almost a year since the boy started living with them part time. Aramis did hope it would unravel so well between his son and his stepfather. It has been so much better than anything he could have expected.

 

But Aramis isn't in the mood for playing either and since he hasn't been solicited to join the others he chooses to disappear into the kitchen. In spite of his son's insistance that he might get hurt. Only for the door to open and close sharply in front of him when Anne's father steps out. Taken aback to be faced with Aramis as well. Any trace of cordiality gone for now.

 

“ _You chose a fine time to decide you liked her after all,”_ he remarks coldly after a few seconds.

 

“ _I....what? I...I've always loved Anne. Ever since we started living together. She's a spectacular woman, your daughter. I've always admired and respected her.”_

 

“ _Yet now you're dragging her into your twisted games.”_

 

Aramis should have expected that the icy behavior towards him would lead to an unpleasant confrontation. He glances behind his shoulder but Mati has demanded a phone for music and Porthos now has to listen to _Frozen_. So loudly that it doesn't help his headache yet there's no way Mati could overhear what his grandfather is criticizing.

 

“ _I understand your concern, I think,”_ Aramis starts carefully. _“I'm a dad, too, and I wouldn't want anything bad happening to Mati but with all due respect, you have no right to insult me, or us, like that.”_ He's done with her parents' bullshit. He's been done with it for years, always polite in their very few exchanges. For Anne's sake. Not when it attacks all the people that Aramis loves, though.

 

“ _There's nothing wrong, or_ twisted _like you say, about love. You don't, and maybe you can't, see it our way but we're all adults. We're all happy as we are. I love Anne much more now, which should be enough for you. To know your daughter is happy.”_

 

“ _I don't see how_ him _adopting Mati could make anyone happy.”_

 

“ _What?....Oh.”_

 

“ _Yes, she told us about that.”_

 

It must have been a much heated conversation than Aramis imagined. Still, he can't comprehend what would bother them about this in particular. Trévile is beyond content that his adoptive son is building a bigger family. Aramis' parents think it's a remarkable idea. Safer for the little boy. A sure proof that their son has found someone to complete his life and grow with. Aramis certainly didn't expect this to come to the fore.

 

“ _You can be certain I'll be looking into this very closely.”_

 

Aramis doesn't appreciate the menacing tone one bit.

 

“ _I wasn't aware you were a lawyer now. It's all very legal.”_

 

“ _Don't mock me, boy.”_

 

“ _I am_ not _a child. I'm certainly not yours and let me just make something very clear. What we do for our son is none of your business. You never had custody of Mati. Anne didn't even have to tell you about that because your opinion doesn't matter. We're doing what's best for him. For us and don't worry, nobody will replace you as his grandparents. Now, if you'll excuse me....”_

 

He takes a step to the side to reach the kitchen door, definitely not wanting to listen to more of this nonsense. It was nice to be in Anne's father's good grace for a day. Almost two. If Aramis has to lose this to preserve his family and their choices, then so be it. He isn't losing much.

 

“ _We weren't finished.”_ Anne's father follows him. Anne's hands are full of shards of glass as she looks up in surprise. So does her mother.

 

“ _Oh but I am. I won't discuss any of my personal decisions with you anymore. Give me that.”_ Aramis focuses on Anne and how she handles the tiny pieces of glass with her bare hands. She'll cut a finger being so careless. She does what he tells her to without batting an eyelid.

 

“ _Papá, what have you told him now?”_

 

“ _Why does it have to be your father's fault, Anne?”_

 

“ _We were talking about this ridiculous adoption scheme.”_

 

“ _Pap_ _á_ _, for the last time. There's nothing ridiculous about it!”_ Anne is so tired of fighting about everything. She just wants to sleep the day away but it's not even four in the afternoon. _“Porthos is my boyfriend. Ours. He's helping us raise Mati. He's family and we're making it official. That's all. End of story.”_

 

Her father seems to be seething again, upset for reasons Anne can't make sense of. Mati's future should be the only thing to focus on right now. Not how it would include somebody new in their family circle. Someone who so strongly belongs in Anne's life that neither Aramis nor her can picture it any other way.

 

Lunch was a short quiet respite after all. It didn't take her parents long to argue again.

 

“ _I suppose now I can see why you're insisting he's family,”_ her mother says, for once being the voice of reason. Anne looks at her thankfully. _“From your point of view at least.”_

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

Her mother acknowleding some aspects of her new way of life is an encouraging sign. Anne holds on to the shreds of hope she can gather.

 

“ _And he's good with Mati.”_

 

They can hear laughter from behind the closed door. Giggling amid the cheerful music. Whether or not she approves of her daughter's relationship, there are some things which can't be faked. Affection and deep care. Porthos' place in Anne's life might be unnatural, he's been adopted by her grandson. Unoficially at least.

 

“ _He's good with all of us,”_ Anne stresses. _“He's sweet and funny and gentle and I'm aware for you it doesn't make sense, but if one day you do realize you should know him better, him or Aramis, you'll find out for yourself.”_

 

Her parents can't ignore the honesty of her praises either. It's such a foreign concept though.

 

Aramis smiles at her determination, leaning against the kitchen counter when he's done cleaning the mess on the floor. Resolute to stick around for moral support even if he's sure that no amount of talking will change her parents' mind. They're too narrow-minded to accept something that isn't the norm. He's still immensely impressed by Anne's strength and courage. How she stands up to them despite how wrecked she looks when she's not trying to hide how profundly affected she is by the conflict.

 

“ _I hope you'll want to find out one day, Mam_ _á_ _. Because this is my life now,”_ Anne continues, boldly grabbing Aramis' hand and holding on to it. _“I'm not giving up on them. I won't. I won't give up on you either and now, I'd be grateful if you would stop picking fights with any of them. Of us. You have no cause to. I'm fine.”_

 

How ever hard they're trying not to, her parents have to glance at their threaded fingers. The way Aramis has stood taller by Anne's side and how he holds their gaze. Not afraid of them. Her father is gritting his teeth, which isn't different to his attitude throughout the entire lunch. But Aramis has been here for years, whether they liked it or not. Next to Anne, helping, and he has showed them time and time again that he wouldn't leave her behind.

 

He's not going to start anytime soon. Except he's not the only one loving and taking care of her.

 

“ _If you hurt her...,”_ her father starts, pointing one threatening finger at Aramis.

 

“ _Pap_ _á_ _....”_ Anne would roll her eyes because it's too dramatic and he's done it to Porthos earlier. But she won't be the one starting another argument. Besides, it means that her father is resigning himself to what she's decided.

 

“ _It won't happen,”_ Aramis swears.

 

“ _I'll make sure you never see her or Mati ever again.”_

 

“ _I wouldn't expect anything else.”_ Aramis hopes he won't turn out to be such a terrifying father when Mati is older. He would hate to become someone who just can't let things go. On the other hand, from a father to another, he understands the desire to protect. To such great lengths, it's starting to be a little ridiculous. _“But you won't have to,”_ he swears again. _“I love them.”_

 

Anne's father breathes out so loudly he sounds like a pissed bull. This is a concept he's always had a difficult time processing. That Aramis could love his daughter in spite of being so far away. Yet now they are involved romantically, or so it seems, so it might be more genuine. He has no patience to stand around and witness their affection, though. Aramis certainly isn't the best person Anne could be involved with. Especially as he has another boyfriend. One that his daughter claims to love as well. There are so many things wrong there.

 

His daughter may be foolish, he doesn't want to antagonize her more. Anne jumps, startled, when her father storms out of the kitchen suddenly.

 

“ _Mamá?”_

 

There's a tiny edge of leftover hope in her voice and a short hesitation.

 

“ _I've nothing more to say than what I've said before, Anne. This might seem fine for now, but it won't last. Trust me.”_

 

Anne sighs, does close her eyes when her mother pats her cheek briefly. She won't cry this time. She's done crying for today. She hopes.

 

She's alone with Aramis when she opens her eyes again. Turning around and demanding a hug at once.

 

“ _I'm sorry.”_

 

He wonders what exactly she's apologizing for. She's done nothing wrong at all. On the contrary, she's done everything the right way.

 

“ _It's nothing worse than what they've done in the past.”_

 

Aramis kisses the top of her head, rubs her back. Anne looks a bit helpless now thay they're by themselves.

 

“ _You shouldn't have to endure this,”_ she mumbles.

 

“ _It's not your fault, Anne. Don't give yourself a hard time. You've done something super brave.”_

 

“ _Yes. I'll feel better soon. I hope.”_

 

“ _You will. I'm staying right here with you until you do.”_

 

She wishes she could carve herself a hole in Aramis' arms to stay buried there forever. Where it's warm and gentle and nothing bad can ever happen to her. Where she's safe and loved.

 

“ _Shouldn't we go make sure they leave Porthos alone?”_ Anne asks instead. She's almost positive her parents will drop their complaints for the time being and that Porthos is more than capable to hold his ground yet they can never be careful enough.

 

“ _Yeah. Maybe.”_

 

But Anne shows no sign of wanting to move. Her hands clutch his shoulders and her head presses against his chest. So Aramis hugs her tighter and doesn't move either.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Mati looks up from his book the second his grandfather comes back in the living room. With a huge smile and sparkling eyes, the boy shifts on his play mat, untangles himself from the wrestling position he was in with Porthos. Then he beams even more at his grandmother. Holds the book with both hands and without meaning to, traps them into having to disregard their coldness toward Porthos so that everybody will pay attention to _him_.

 

“ _Grandpa! Grandma! I'm teaching Porfos new Spanish words!”_

 

So much for sticking to French, his stepfather thinks. He isn't so fond of the way Anne's parents look at him now. As far as he's concerned, they couldn't leave fast enough. Either them or Porthos but he's had enough interaction with them for quite a long time.

 

Mati hasn't.

 

“ _Come and see! Porfos, speak!”_

 

“ _You must be an excellent teacher, darling,”_ his grandmother praises. Not that she wants to listen to Porthos, even if his Spanish is quite good. And not that Porthos wants to entertain them with names of fruit and veggies.

 

“ _Yes! And in two months I'm going to learn how to read long stories and I'll read you stories in Spanish. Like you read me in French!”_

 

“Sure, kiddo. I can't wait.” Porthos chuckles, groans as he stands up because Mati has gone to his grandparents and the time for playing seems over.

 

“ _We can play a big game together! With Mam_ _á_ _and Pap_ _á_ _!”_ the boy decides, gesturing wildly at his audience and at himself. Porthos groans once more, for different reasons. _“It's one, two, three, four, five.....six people!”_

 

Mati counts on his fingers, sticks out his tongue and looks incredibly proud of himself to be correct. Bless him, Porthos thinks. To be so little he can't understand the many problems lying underneath the distant attitude of the adults or the way his grandparents avoid talking to Porthos directly. Not that Porthos wants them to. He did hear the muffled argument in the kitchen. He didn't understand a thing, too busy entertaining Mati and if he doesn't see lips moving then his Spanish is worthless. But there's been an argument, another one and he doesn't have to be a genius to understand what it was about. At least he hopes it wasn't about something new. They've had enough troubles in the past two days.

 

“ _Mam_ _á_ _! We're going to play a big game!”_ the boy repeats happily when he sees his parents come out of the kitchen. Anne smiles, still holding Aramis' hand tightly. She catches Porthos' eyes and she sees his encouraging smile. It settles the tremors in her heart. To have them both by her side.

 

She doubts everyone has agreed to her son's idea.

 

“ _Isn't it time to rest for a while, though?”_

 

“ _But, Mamá....”_

 

“ _We were up really early to cook and we need to have some quiet, sweetheart.”_

 

“ _But, Mamá....Grandpa and grandma are here. They're almost never here....”_

 

The boy flails his arms dramatically, going to his grandfather who is the closest and clutching his arm desperately. Porthos has to admire Mati's skilled scheming abilities. Not that it's working on any of the adults.

 

“ _True. But they're still here for a couple of days....”_

 

Anne pauses, suddenly afraid that this may not be the case anymore. That they'll want to leave as soon as they can, refusing to stay any longer with a daughter who isn't conforming to life as they view it. She's relieved her father nods to confirm her words and that at least, they won't break their grandson's heart over their petty disapproval.

 

“ _.....so missing a few hours with them isn't so dramatic,”_ she finishes. _“Trust me. Everyone needs to rest.”_

 

“ _We can all nap together! I've enough pillows for everyone, you know! You can choose the one you want, grandpa. You, too, grandma!”_

 

“ _Thank you, darling. That's very kind of you. But we'll be more comfortable at our hotel.”_

 

Mati pouts, shuffles on his feet until his grandfather picks him up in his arms.

 

“ _We'll see each other tomorrow morning, don't worry,”_ he reassures the child.

 

“ _Tomorrow?”_

 

“ _Yes. You're taking us to that beautiful church you told us about. Remember?”_

 

“ _Oh yes!”_ Mati exclaims. _“The one with the bright colors on the_ _walls. Are you coming, Pap_ _á_ _? Pap_ _á_ _tells good stories about the people in the Bible,”_ he explains to his grandparents.

 

Aramis would love to go. He loves the church they're talking about. He does like the choir and lots of young people attend service. It's livelier than most churches. But as much as Mati would enjoy the extra company, Aramis can't wait to say goodbye to Anne's parents and not see them for weeks. If not months.

 

“ _I can't, buddy. But that's okay. Because we'll see you very soon anyway.”_

 

Not tomorrow night, though. Even if it'll be Sunday and the men usually pick the boy up on that night when he stays with them. Because Anne asked to keep her son a couple more days. Her parents are flying back on Tuesday so it's easier like that. Aramis would like nothing more but to rub it in their faces. How much Porthos and him are accomodating people he finds despicable. Not treating their daughter like loving parents should.

 

He doesn't say anything, though. He doesn't want to fight and he doesn't want Anne to have to argue because of stuff he's said. So Aramis keeps his mouth shut. He listens to more half-hearted persuasive words from Mati. None of them work and finally, _finally_ , they hastily shake hands on their goodbyes. Aramis would be good without any yet his son is watching and in spite of it all, Aramis is determined to be a good role model.

 

Truly, they all deserve medals.

 

“Everything okay?” Porthos wants to know while Anne and Mati go say their proper goodbyes at the front door. Aramis welcomes the open arms and the delightful snuggle.

 

“They're a pain. They're not on board about the adoption. For whatever fucked up reason.”

 

“I know. They said so earlier.”

 

“But we don't care. To hell with them.”

 

“You think they'll let it go one day?”

 

“They'll have to. Anne is stubborn and she won't put up with more of their bullshit.”

 

“They got you pretty worked up, cupcake.”

 

“Well, yeah.” Aramis _is_ upset. “They were criticizing your worth and they said we were twisted and….I might have snapped.”

 

“You know what? I still don't see how I didn't. Apart from the fact that I can't talk back in Spanish. Yeah, that must be it.” Porthos manages to chuckle and draws one from his boyfriend, which is a reward considering how tense Aramis is in his arms. “Oh and by the way. I learned how to say asparagus and.....mango?”

 

Aramis snorts, a cute sound and he wraps his arms around Porthos' neck. His lips rest against his boyfriend's. Slowly kissing away the laughter.

 

“Amaze me,” he dares Porthos.

 

“.....I forgot.”

 

Aramis snorts louder at Porthos' discomfited face. He could lose himself in the dimples illuminating Porthos' face when he smiles, too. It's so pretty. Enough to forget all about their current worries. Aramis does lose himself in their kiss and the way Porthos' arm presses on his waist. On the small of his back. Crushing them together now that there's no one around to judge them.

 

Only Mati who believes kissing is a waste of precious time.

 

“ _Mam_ _á_ _! They're kissing again!”_ he complains.

 

Anne laughs at the over-the-top reaction, feeling lighter now that her parents are out of her life until the next day. She couldn't bear to face them later in the evening. Not after what's happened so far. She even believes the rest of their stay will be so tense and awkward she wishes they could go back to Spain sooner. It should be a shameful thought yet they've said some horrible and nasty things, in spite of their constant reminders that they loved her. Anne needs a break from her parents.

 

“ _And how is it a problem, sweetheart? Love makes people kiss.”_

 

“ _But it's yuck!”_

 

“ _Nobody is making_ you _do it. You're too young for that_ _anyway. And nobody's forcing you to watch either if it bothers you.”_

 

Mati covers his eyes with both hands in response. Aramis and Porthos stop to watch, Aramis swirling in his boyfriend's arms. Stifling a laugh, gazing at Anne and how she looks more like herself all of a sudden. Hardly any trace of the overpowering tension which has ruled over her for the past weeks.

 

The boy peeks through his fingers carefully after a few seconds to find his father laughing silently. Then Aramis makes a funny face and Mati giggles. Rushes to the men and their legs to hug them.

 

“ _Are you leaving, too, Papá?”_

 

“I thought you said you had pillows to share, buddy?”

 

“ _I do! You can have to ones with the fairies. The purple one.”_

 

“That's mighty nice of you. Thanks.”

 

“ _Mamá, can they stay?”_

 

“Anytime they want,” Anne promises.

 

She needs them now more than ever. More than she needed to apologize for the crude way she treated Porthos the day before. More than when Porthos was holding her hand while she was telling her parents. More than when him and Aramis stood up to her father to profess their love for her.

 

Anne needs them around to feel safe and protected. For a nap. Perhaps for the rest of the evening. For as long as they want. To cast away the dark shadows which could threaten to come back and haunt her.

 

Mati clasps his hands, happy to have to nap if the rest of the household does as well and if he's sure his fathers will be there when he wakes up. Porthos gets to finish the book they started during playtime while the others tidy up a little. Mati hugs his giant teddy bear and his soft blanket, his head on his stepfather's chest as he listens. His parents take long enough for the child to doze off rapidly without complaining that they aren't there. He does so with the steady rhythm of the fan whisking away some of the heat.

 

Anne is in a much similar position on her own bed, in Aramis' arms when Porthos pads back to them. He closes the door of her bedroom because they know how Mati can wake up unexpectedly and disturb them. The quiet is greatly appreciated. Not a sound around them but soft and slow breathing. And some shuffling when Aramis scoots over so that his boyfriend can snuggle under his right arm.

 

Porthos kisses Anne right on their boyfriend's chest. A quick touching of their lips to show that he's here. If it wasn't for her low sigh, he would have thought she was already asleep. She must be exhausted. More than the both of them put together.

 

Aramis' fingers are smoothing her hair, grazing the nape of her neck and dipping below to caress her back. Lightly and steadily. A pleasant feeling and Anne hugs his waist, curls up against his side.

 

“How's your headache?” Aramis whispers to Porthos. The fingers on his hair -Aramis loves hair regardless of its shape or length- fall to the collar of Porthos' tee-shirt when he looks up. His beard scratches Aramis' neck.

 

“Still here.”

 

“I'm sorry, sweetie.”

 

“I think that from now, I just want to hear Spanish when we're having sex,” Porthos jokes.

 

“That can be arranged.”

 

Aramis' mouth tastes of whipped cream, of sponge cake and of strawberries. Porthos never wants the kisses to end. They're perfect. His boyfriend's tongue is slow around his own. Teasing. Taking its sweet time. Licking Porthos' lips while his hand is back to petting short black curls. Aramis' kisses are so inviting, so tasty that it takes the focus off past troubles. Off Porthos' headache.

 

“Just wait for me to be completely awake,” Anne mumbles sleepily and it makes both men laugh out loud in between their kisses. “Or do it somewhere else.”

 

Being pushed off a bed if their sex gets too intense won't be appreciated.

 

Aramis kisses the top of her head and Porthos wraps one arm above the one she's clutching Aramis' waist with. He rubs her soft bare skin with rough fingers and Anne snuggles closer to them both.

 

As inviting as everything sounds, Porthos only wants to crash for now. In spite of their combined body heat added to the hot summer day. There's no other place he'd rather be. With people who love him and want the whole world to know what he means to them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *relieved sigh* I'm done with angst/drama for some time. Just fluff and happy family times.


End file.
